SEASON 6: The Aftermath of Walter White
by JuSaYes
Summary: Walt may be history, but the consequences of his actions are only just beginning...
1. Ep 1 Parting Gift

**Season 6 Trailer: **

**Jesse** is a penniless fugitive on the run.

**Marie** is an embittered widow with ambiguous loyalties.

**Flynn** and **Holly** are frightened children on the precipice of becoming State Wards.

**Skyler** is a desperate defendant in Court, prosecuted for her involvement in Walt's crimes.

Five lives turned upside down by Walt's actions. Five stories to tell. One exciting Season, coming to you, this month, on AMC...

* * *

><p><span><strong>Ep. 1 Parting Gift<strong>

Last Season, on AMC's Breaking Bad… Hank discovers Walt's secret, and winds up buried in the desert. Jesse is taken prisoner, forced to churn Heisenberg Blue for his captors. Walter orders a new dust filter for his Hoover Max Extract Pressure Pro model 60, only to reappear one year later in an effort to avenge Hank's death, and bid his family farewell. Walter dies alone, poetically so, by a bullet from his own machine gun.

This Season, we set the scene in two separate time zones: In 2012, following Hank's death, and in 2013, following Walter's death.

**2013**

Jesse tore out of the Welker White Supremacist compound, far away from his dead captors, screaming hysterically and punching the dashboard till his knuckles bled. Mr White, ever the architect of his life and Master of his Universe. Once condemning him to slavery and certain death, he'd taken a bullet for Jesse and saved his life. Mr White. He was simultaneously Jesse's greatest foe, and only family.

Stopping by a gas station, Jesse hurried to the bathroom, taking a piss, and long hungry gulps of tap water. Then he went into the gas station and slipped a cylinder tube of candy into his pocket.

"What can I do for you?" the counter guy yawned.

Jesse pressed the rounded end of the tube against the inside of his jacket pockets, making it look like the barrel of a gun. He nodded towards his pocket.

The counter guy's eyes widened, "Whoa, wh-what's that?"

"I think you know what it is," Jesse said menacingly.

The man opened the cash register, lifting his hands in surrender. "Take it, take all of it."

Jesse stuffed his pockets with cash, hurried to his car, and filled it with gas. Throwing the stolen cash into the front seat, he sped off.

**2012**

"You stupid bitch!" Walt spat. Skyler's eyes glazed over and her heart tightened, as she realised what Walt was doing. Saving her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"You have no right to discuss anything about what I do! What the hell do you know about it anyway? Nothing! I built this, nobody else, me alone!"

Skyler nodded, "You're right, you're right."

"You mark my words Skyler, tow the line or you will wind up just like Hank," Walt growled.

"Walt, tell me what happened. Where is Hank? Please, we need to know," Skyler pleaded. Marie stood up, her heart racing. Walt shuddered, struggling to control his tears.

"You're never going to see Hank again. He crossed me! You think about that. Family or no, you let that sink in."

At that, Marie clapped her hand over her mouth, collapsing onto the couch in agony. Flynn reached over, cradling her in his arms.

"Walt, I just want Holly back. Please Walt, just come home," Skyler wept.

"I've still got things left to do," Walt choked out.

Snapping his cell phone in half, he allowed himself to collapse into sobs, his grief stricken heavy breathing fogging up his spectacles. This phone call was his parting gift to Skyler: An alibi of innocence.

Skyler held the phone out in front of her, desolate and hollow. Taking it from her, an agent directed her to a chair. He sat beside her, placing a glass of water on the table.

"Have a seat, Ma'am. I cannot begin to imagine how traumatising this must be for you."

On the couch, Marie wept and shuddered in Flynn's arms. He held her tightly, tears streaming down his cheeks. How did it get to this? How could it be that his beloved Uncle Hank had been slain at the hands of his adored father? Agents paced frantically about the house, speaking in hushed urgent tones.

"Have a few sips of water, Ma'am. We don't want you getting dehydrated," he coaxed. Skyler sipped nervously, feeling all eyes in the room upon her.

"My daughter," she croaked. "Holly…"

"Ma'am, believe me, we are doing everything in our power to find your daughter," the agent reassured, pulling out a notebook from his pocket.

"She's so young, she's just a baby, she's only 18 months. Please…" Skyler whispered.

"I know Ma'am. And we will find her, we will scour every inch of this country to find your husband, and bring your daughter home." Skyler nodded gratefully.

"But in order to do that, we need you to reveal everything, and I mean _everything_you know about your husband's criminal activities." Skyler's eyes widened in panic.

"Ma'am, there's no need to be alarmed. We're not seeking to hang you out to dry. We just need your assistance if we're to find your husband, and hence your child."

"I think I might need a lawyer," Skyler croaked. At that, Marie's head snapped up, and she stared at her sister incredulously.

"A lawyer?! You think you need a lawyer?! Are you fucking kidding me?!" she screeched. She scrambled towards Skyler, throwing herself at her sister.

"Aunt Mare! Stop!" Flynn cried.

"You fucking bitch! Your daughter's missing and all you can think about is covering your ass?!" Marie screamed.

"Marie! Marie! Stop it! Get off me!" Skyler yelped, as a hailstorm of bitch slaps rained down upon her.

"Auntie Mare! Don't! Stop! Stop!" Flynn cried, scrambling for his crutches.

An agent prised Marie off Skyler. Marie screamed and kicked and wept, struggling against the Agent's vice grip.

"She knows everything Walt did! Everything! You interrogate her! You interrogate the shit out of her, because she knows!" Marie shrieked.

"Calm down, Ma'am. I need you to calm down. Stop fighting me!" the agent insisted. Finally, Marie stopped struggling, and went limp, her legs dragging against the floor, as she collapsed into tears.

"She knew he was dealing even before Hank got shot," Marie sobbed, as the agent eased her onto the couch.

"M-Mom, please! Tell m-m-me what's going on! Wh-what's happening?!" Flynn sobbed.

"Sweetheart, listen to me," Skyler walked towards her son. Marie stood up abruptly, blocking Flynn.

"You stay the hell away from him, you lying two-faced bitch," Marie spat.

"Marie," Skyler whispered.

"I mean it! You've been hiding his money, lying for him, covering for him! That bullshit Gambling story? That was _your_invention! You're an accessory to murder, that's what you fucking are!" Marie yelled, tears streaming down her face.

"Marie, please…" Skyler said helplessly.

"Aunt M-M-Mare, what d-do you mean Gambling story? W-What's going on? Why won't anyone tell me a-anything?!" Flynn yelled.

"Ma'am, I'm going to need to escort you home, okay?" an agent told Marie.

"I'm not leaving Flynn! Not here with the likes of her," Marie argued.

"You're going to have to, Ma'am. Your nephew is her son. Rest assured, we'll look after him, he'll come to no harm," the agent emphasised. "You need to leave, I must insist."

Marie turned to Flynn, pulling him into a tight hug. "You be good, okay? You be good. If you're ever scared or confused, you call me. You hear?!"

"O-Okay, Aunt Mare," Flynn nodded.

Marie followed the agent out of the White residence, leaving Skyler and Flynn to their own devices. The agent handed Skyler a tissue, which she promptly blew her nose into.

"Ma'am, I know you're frightened, but I assure you, everything you tell me about your husband's activities will go a long way to finding your child."

Skyler shook her head vigorously. "I've already told you everything I know."

"Your sister seems to think otherwise. If you could fill me in on this Gambling story, that would be very helpful."

"I need a lawyer, please." Skyler insisted, panicked.

"Mom, wh-what's wrong with you? Why can't you j-j-just talk, so they c-can find Holly?!" Flynn yelled.

Skyler turned to Flynn desperately, "Flynn, honey, I'm doing the best I can, please understand-"

"No you're n-not! That's… That's bullshit! You're b-bullshit! You're not even saying everything you know! All-All you do is lie!" Flynn roared, standing up, fumbling for his crutches. An agent blocked his way.

"Son, calm down. I need you to calm down," the agent warned.

"Where'd d-d-dad take Holly?! Just t-tell them everything you know, mom! P-P-Please!" Flynn cried, collapsing back onto the couch.

"I've told you everything that's relevant to finding her," Skyler whispered.

"Why don't you let us be the judge of that? You tell us everything you know, and we'll decide what information is relevant. How about that? Will you do that for your daughter?"

Skyler remained mute, her lips pursed in a tight line. Blinking back tears, she wrung her hands and fiddled with her wedding ring anxiously.

"Ma'am, if I may, your sister seems to think you knew more than you're letting on," the agent prompted.

"I need a lawyer, let me call a lawyer, it's my-my legal right," Skyler cried shrilly. Another agent stepped in, placing a firm hand on his colleague's shoulder.

"Tony, enough. Let her call a lawyer. If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this right. You don't want her later calling you out for not respecting her Fifth Amendment rights," he whispered loudly. The agent stood up, eyeing Skyler coldly.

"Alright, Ma'am. We'll end the interview for now, and continue the search for your daughter. We'll get in touch the moment we learn of anything regarding her disappearance. You take care, now."


	2. Ep 2 The Littlest Heisenberg

**Ep. 2 The Littlest Heisenberg**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad... Jesse robs a gas station, upon his first taste of freedom. Skyler pleads with police for Holly's safe return. Walter gifts Skyler with an alibi of innocence. Marie lashes out at Skyler for her lies and deceit. Officers leave the White residence suspicious of Skyler's fervent demands for a lawyer.

* * *

><p><strong><span>2012<span>**

The fire fighters congregated around the little box tv, snacking on pizza and sipping on Pepsi, as they watched the late night news. A picture of a bald man in gold wire glasses came to view. Next to him, was the image of a wheat-blonde blue-eyed toddler.

"Jesus. Can you imagine? A high school teacher cooking meth?"

"Tell me about it. That asshole taught my kid chemistry."

"Seriously? That's shit-scary, bro."

"I even had a parent-teacher interview with him, would you believe?"

"No kidding!"

"He didn't strike me as the criminal-type. Looked real uptight and bookish, actually. Y'know, apparently, according to him, my kid doesn't apply herself and has no aptitude in chemistry."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't take it personally. I, for one, wouldn't trust a meth-head's judgment."

"Quiet down, lads. I'm trying to listen, here. Turn it up, would you?"

_"A nationwide manhunt begins for the whereabouts of methamphetamine Kingpin Walter White, better known by his pseudonym, Heisenberg. At approximately 2:15 pm this afternoon, Walter White attacked his wife with a knife."_

_"When his son notified the police, he kidnapped his 18 month old daughter, Holly White; and fled the house. This incident follows the disappearance of Senior Drug Enforcement Agents Henry Schrader and Steven Gomez. Authorities have expressed the likelihood that they may have been murdered by Walter White."_

_"As of this morning, Authorities have confirmed that Walter White is responsible for the manufacture of over $175 million worth of methamphetamines over the course of two years, the murder of Gustavo Fring, the blowing up of a nursing home and the murder of 10 prison inmates. More details on how Authorities arrived at this conclusion shall be released shortly."_

"Guys, guys, look outside," a rookie firefighter said.

"Not now, kid, we're watching this," the Lieutenant muttered.

"The lights on one of the fire engines are on," the rookie pointed out.

"Well go deal with it, son." The Lieutenant grumbled.

The rookie walked outside and opened the door of the flashing fire engine. He heard the soft whines of a child, and to his shock, he saw a frightened toddler strapped to the seat, with a name and address taped to her shirt.

His jaw dropped when he saw the name. _Holly White. _Heisenberg's infant daughter! With shaky hands, he unbuckled the child, and she proceeded to wail. He rushed her into the fire department, and his colleagues, hearing Holly's cries, snapped their heads around, staring at him in shock.

"It's Holly White, the kidnapped kid on the news!" the rookie yelped. The Lieutenant glanced at the photo of the child on the television screen, then back at Holly.

"Good God, it's her. Call the police. Now!" the Lieutenant ordered. "We need to get this place surrounded. Her father could still be in the vicinity! One of you, go now!"

A firefighter ran to call the police. The Lieutenant turned to Holly. "The child, bring her here. Is she hurt?"

"No sir, she looks fine, she's just upset," the young firefighter replied, passing the screaming child to the Lieutenant, who looked her over quickly.

"She looks fine, but I'll have the hospital confirm that. Call her mother, and tell her she'll see her child at the Specialty Hospital of Albuquerque."

Cradling the crying child in his arms, the Lieutenant cleared his throat, holding a microphone against his mouth.

"May I have everyone's attention, please. We have in our custody, the kidnapped child Holly White, daughter of wanted fugitive, Walter White." The Fire Department burst into panicked chatter.

"Now, please. I need you all to stay calm. Everyone is to stay inside this building. You are not to leave here under any circumstances till the police arrive. Walter White is a very dangerous man, a mass murderer, to be sure. I don't want any of you ending up as a casualty of his criminal ways."

...

Skyler and Flynn stayed up all night, waiting desperately for a call.

"Is d-d-dad gonna h-hurt Holly?" Flynn whimpered. Skyler stared at Flynn, shocked and shaken by his question.

"Flynn, look at me. Look at me. No. I promise you, your father would never hurt your sister, he-"

"H-H-How do you know? How do y-y-you know he won't?!" Flynn interrupted.

"Because he loves us, he loves all of us. We're his family," Skyler emphasised.

"Uncle H-Hank's family, and look what he did! He killed him! He k-k-killed Uncle Hank!" Flynn shrieked.

"Sweetheart, honey, I know you're scared," Skyler whispered, completely at a loss as to how to comfort her son. At that very moment, the phone rang, making Flynn and Skyler jump out of their skins. She picked up the receiver with shaky hands.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mrs White?"

"Speaking."

"This is the Albuquerque Fire Department. We found your daughter."

"You found her? Oh thank God, is she okay? How is she?" Skyler choked out.

"Th-They've got H-Holly?! Is she okay?!" Flynn demanded anxiously.

"Hang on, Flynn," Skyler said.

"She's fine, Ma'am. We've had the police take her to the Specialty Hospital of Albuquerque for a check-up, but we're confident she's in good health."

"Oh God, thank you, thank you," Skyler burst into grateful tears, turning to Flynn. "Flynn, honey, they've got Holly, she's fine, she's perfectly fine!"

Flynn dropped his face into his hands, relief flooding through him.

"Ma'am, your daughter will be discharged from the hospital soon."

"Okay. Christ, I can't- I can't thank you enough, I'm on my way," Skyler breathed, hanging up. "Flynn, get in the car."

...

As Skyler and Flynn hurried along the hospital corridors, they were stunned at the crowd of heavily armed police officers surrounding baby Holly. Even before they stepped through the door of the consultation room, they could hear little Holly's inconsolable crying.

"Holly, Holly! It's okay, baby, mommy's here, Flynn's here!" Skyler yelled, pushing through the crowd of Agents. She lifted the screaming Holly into her arms, weeping with relief.

"It's okay sweetheart, it's okay! You're alright now, your brother's here," Skyler choked out, cradling her distraught toddler.

"H-Hi Holly! Hi! It's m-me, Flynn! Don't cry, d-don't cry Holly, it's okay!" Flynn soothed, planting kisses in Holly's hair.

"I'm Dr. Rhinestone, the physician who examined your daughter," a woman greeted.

"Hi, thank you for looking after her. She's okay, right? She looks okay," Skyler breathed.

"Yes, you needn't be alarmed. I'm happy to report Holly is completely healthy and unharmed. Just very bewildered and frightened. Nurse Garcia will go through the discharge papers with you, then you're free to go."

"Thank you, thank you doctor, so much," Skyler exhaled, rocking Holly back and forth. "Shhhh, Shhhh, sweetheart, you're okay now."

…

Grandma Alma placed a hot steaming mug of cocoa and marshmallows in front of her grandson. "Now, I know how your mama used to serve you up all kinds of Americano treats. I believe hot chocolate was one of your favourites?" she smiled.

Brock ignored her, staring vacantly at the television screen. It was him. That face, that man, Brock could never forget the bald man in the gold-wire glasses. Brock felt his heartbeat quicken.

_"This evening at 9:35 pm, the Albuquerque Fire Department found kidnapped daughter of methamphetamine kingpin Walter White, strapped in the front seat of a fire engine."_

Alma glanced worriedly at her grandson. "Are you quite alright, nieto? You look pale, tense… Are you thinking about your mama again?" Alma asked quietly. Wordlessly, Brock pointed a single index finger at the television screen.

"That man? Oh that man, they call him Heisenberg. He's a gringo- the _only _gringo the Cartel fears," Alma explained. Brock nodded wordlessly, staring fixedly at the menacing face onscreen. Alma took her grandson's hands in hers.

"My sweet beautiful boy, I know you miss your mama. I miss her too, more than you could ever know. Her memory plagues me, and I suspect it will till the end of my days. But nieto, it will not do to sit here in silence brooding your life away. You must eat, you must sleep," Alma coaxed. Brock remained unresponsive.

_"Distraught but unharmed, Holly White was rushed to the New __Specialty Hospital of Albuquerque for treatment. As of 10 pm tonight, she has been reunited with her mother and brother, in good health."_

Alma blinked back tears. "Sweetheart, it kills me to see you this way. Your life must go on, your mama would've wanted that, she loved you so much." Slipping her hand under Brock's chin, Alma gently directed her grandson's gaze towards her. "Speak to me, sweetheart, please."

"Mama knew him," Brock said quietly.

"Knew who, nieto? Who?" Alma asked, searching Brock's vacant eyes. Brock pointed at the television.

_"The search continues for Walter White and the two DEA Agents he admitted to murdering, over a tapped phone call to his wife. Authorities have revealed that during a thorough search of the homes of both missing DEA Agents, a hidden copy of a confession video tape was found in the house of Agent Henry Shrader. This tape, recorded by White's former associate, Jesse Pinkman, reveals the full extent of Walter White's crimes."_

"Mos Dios… Your mother knew Heisenberg?" Alma asked shakily.

Brock stared vacantly into space, withdrawing quickly back within himself. Memories of his mother clouded his mind. He could still hear the bang of the gun, the pattering of the assailant's feet. He could see his mother lying on the floor, glassy-eyed and still, a pool of red blossoming at his feet. He could still feel the sticky warmth of her blood beneath his hands, and smell its sour metallic, as he wept into her shirt. Alma grasped Brock by the shoulders, shaking him gently.

"Brock, sweetheart, stay with me. Did your mother know Heisenberg?" she repeated. Brock nodded once. Alma clapped her hands over her mouth, her face blanching.

"Mr. White is a very bad man," Brock whispered.


	3. Ep 3 Lily of the Valley

**Ep. 3 Lily of the Valley**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… To the immense relief of Skyler and her son, Holly White finds her way back home with the help of the local fire department. Meanwhile, we find out Brock is now being raised by his grandmother, after Todd murdered his mother Andrea.

* * *

><p><span><strong>2012<strong>

Marie sat by the phone, waves of panic coursing through her. She stared at the tv screen numbly, as images of her beloved husband and baby niece flashed before her eyes. Suddenly the phone rang. Her heartbeat quickened. Had they found Hank? Dead? Murdered? Or was it Holly? Was Holly okay?

"Hello?" she croaked.

"Marie, it's me, please. Please don't hang up. I just… I just need to let you know, they've found Holly," Skyler hurried.

"They found Holly? Is she okay? Is she hurt?" Marie demanded nervously.

"They found her, Marie. She's completely okay. She's at home with Flynn and I." Skyler reassured. "Walt left her at a fire station."

Marie closed her eyes, relief flooding through her. That was half of her worries gone. Holly was safe. Now all she needed to worry about was Hank.

"Get her on the phone, I need to hear she's okay," Marie whispered.

"Okay, okay Marie," Skyler obliged. Skyler held the phone up to Holly, and Marie's heart melted at the sounds of her niece's baby-babble.

"Oh Holly, it's so good to hear your voice again! How are you? How is my favourite baby girl?" Marie cooed, shaking with relief. "Can you get your big brother on the phone? Skyler? Get Flynn on the line."

"Marie, I-I am so sorry," Skyler struggled.

"Did I ask to speak to you?" Marie snapped.

"Just please, Marie, please hear me out…" Skyler struggled.

"Look here. I'm grateful, so grateful that Holly's okay. You know I love her to pieces, but Skyler. _This. _Whatever this is, whoever you are, I just… I don't know you anymore, and nor do I want to. As far as I'm concerned, you don't exist in my life anymore."

"Marie," Skyler whispered. "Please, I love you…"

"No, don't. Don't start. Don't you fucking dare. You made your bed the moment you chose to defend that son of a bitch, so you go lie in it."

"I never knew, I swear I never knew that he was capable of- of hurting Hank, Marie. You have to believe me, the guilt I feel, I cannot even begin to-" Skyler whispered.

"I need to speak to Flynn. Get him on the phone," Marie interrupted. Skyler silently obliged.

"H-Hi Aunt M-Mare…"

"Flynn, sweetheart, how are you holding up?" Marie asked gently.

"Dunno," Flynn muttered.

"Baby, talk to me. What's going through your mind?" Marie pressed.

"Just… th-things. I'm really happy Holly's back, but… but wh-what about uncle Hank? W-Why can't they find him? A-And why would my dad… I thought- I thought family's family, and you're meant to love your family, that's what dad always taught me, so why he gotta kill Uncle Hank?" Flynn struggled, his voice rising with confused panic.

"Flynn, sweetheart. We don't know that. We don't know that he's… we don't know Uncle Hank is… Until the police find him, until they find him, there's always hope he's still alive. You hear me? We can't lose hope, okay, Flynn?" Marie insisted, trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

Flynn remained silent, knowing better. His father had refused to reply when he asked if Uncle Hank was dead. That could've only meant one thing.

"How's your mom? She doing okay?" Marie asked.

"M-Mom's okay, I guess." Flynn shrugged sadly.

Skyler felt her heart catch in her throat. Her sister had asked about her, asked if she was okay. Touched by the gesture, Skyler, still clutching Holly, slid down against the wall, dissolving into sobs.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," Skyler whispered to herself over and over. Holly squirmed in her mother's arms, confused by her mother's weeping.

"Mom? M-Mom? Wh-What's wrong? Aunt Mare, sh-she's crying, like crying h-heaps all of a sudden," Flynn said, alarmed.

"Mom, should… Sh-Should I take Holly? M-Mom?" Flynn asked. Marie closed her eyes, sighing deeply. It was obvious Skyler was in over her head with the kids.

"Flynn, honey. Tell your mother I'll be there in ten."

…

As the truck drove on, whisking Walter off the face of the planet, he sat alone in the suffocating dark of the rounded container, with his knees pulled up against his chest. His legs were cramping, and his whole body ached, as he was thrown about the vehicle like the human cargo he was.

With miles between Albuquerque and his destination, Walter wondered how he'd gotten from harmless penniless school teacher to this… this monster he barely recognized. He reflected upon his darkest act yet. The poisoning of an innocent child…

…

Walter grounded the berries into a fine pulp. Feeding it into a juice box, he sealed the opened foil with a touch of glue, and waited for it to dry. Holding the finished product up to his nose, he inspected it for signs of tampering. Knowing his meticulousness, there were none. Pocketing the poison, he drove to Saul's.

"Have you got the child's class schedule ready?" he demanded.

"What do you want with the kid, anyway?" Saul enquired.

"Never you mind," Walter replied, holding his hand out. "Now, Saul, I won't ask again. Have you got the schedule?"

Saul handed it over reluctantly. "Whatever you've got planned, I don't go in for offing little kids, just so you know."

Walter glared at Saul, his icy pale eyes penetrating. "Do I look like the kind of person who would hurt, let alone kill a child?"

Saul laughed nervously, "Well, sending people off to Belize has been a course of action that's worked very well for you in the past, but okay! So that's not the plan this time, great!"

Walter pocketed the class schedule, strolling out of Saul's office. He drove to Brock's school, waiting in his car till he was certain the car park was deserted. Stalking into the school, he hurried along the corridors towards Brock's classroom.

Searching frantically through the pile of labelled school bags, he chanced upon one labelled 'Brock Cantillo'. Unzipping it, he pulled out Brock's lunchbox, furtively adding his sinister parcel to the meal. Replacing the bag carefully on the hanger, Walter scurried away.

* * *

><p><span>Credits:<span> At the 2013 Comic-Con, Vince Gilligan explained that Walt sneaked into Brock's school, swapping his juice box for one that was poisoned with Lily of the Valley berries. In episode 4x13 "Face Off", when Walt busts into Saul's office, Francesca is seen shredding school schedules, most likely Brock's.


	4. Ep 4 Ghosts of Lovers Past

**Ep. 4 Ghosts of Lovers Past**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad... How Walt poisoned young Brock was brought to light, and Marie makes clear her continuing affections for the White family. Well, her niece and nephew, at least.

* * *

><p><strong><span>2013<span>**

Jesse pulled up into the driveway of his house at the break of dawn. Getting out of his car, exhausted and traumatised, he dropped to his knees, throwing up all over his lawn. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he stood up shakily, making his way to his front door.

To his shock, the door swung open, and a young Hispanic mother and her child stood before him. His eyes brimmed instantly with tears. They reminded him so much of Andrea and Brock. He wondered what ever happened to that kid ever since those Nazi bastards shot his mother?

"Sir, can I help you?" the girl asked. "Do you need me to call an ambulance? I saw you uh… puke on my lawn."

Jesse scratched the back of his head. "Yo lady, what the hell are you doing in my house?"

"_Your _house? What are you talking about?" she laughed nervously. "This_ is_ my house."

Jesse stared at her blankly, failing to compute. The girl, suddenly alarmed, turned to her son. "Go back inside, Carlos. Go to your room."

"Sir, I'm not sure why you think you live here… but I suspect I know," she began.

"What are you high, or something?" Jesse whispered. "What the fuck are you doing in my house?"

"The government seized this house. They said it was bought with drug money. When they finished investigating it, they sold it to the highest bidder at a third of its value."

Horrified, Jesse stumbled backwards, renewed waves of nausea coursing through him. He doubled over in pain. Alarmed, the girl took him gently by the arm.

"Whoa, Whoa, steady on. You need a glass of water, or something? You look really pale."

"No, I'm fine," Jesse croaked. Jesus, his house wasn't even his anymore. What the fuck else could would Mr. White take from him? The son of a bitch had ruined his life!

"I take it you're the kid the Feds hauled this house from?" she asked.

"That's the gist of it," Jesse muttered bitterly.

"Y'know I'd never be able to afford a home for my kid, if it weren't for this whole illegal money thing. No one else wanted to buy some drug-lord hideout, so it was a total steal."

"This is just fucking awesome, huh? I come home after 6 bullshit months of hell, only to find some random chick holed up in my house," Jesse seethed. The girl tensed up, wringing her hands anxiously.

"Hey listen, we're not gonna have any problems here, are we? I don't want to have to call the cops on you."

Jesse threw his hands up in the air. "Don't sweat it, lady. It's yours, all yours."

Turning on his heel, the now homeless Jesse climbed into his car and began driving to nowhere in particular.

* * *

><p><strong><span>2012<span>**

Cradling Holly against her, Skyler peered out of the drawn curtains, tensing at the crowd of reporters standing outside her door.

"Look at them, hovering like flies to a corpse," she muttered darkly.

"A-Are you li-listening to me?! I said I c-can drive to school myself!" Flynn yelled.

"I will be driving you today. That is the end of this discussion," Skyler said flatly.

"Wh-Why you gotta always tr-treat me like a stupid b-b-baby?!"

"I'm not treating you like a baby. I simply cannot have you driving when there's reporters camped outside our house. It's not safe, they could distract you. You could wind up in an accident."

"Un-Uncle Hank would've let me drive! He d-d-doesn't treat me like a dumb k-kid!" Flynn snapped. Skyler's face fell, and she blinked back tears.

"I-I'm… sorry, mom. I di-didn't mean to say Uncle Hank's name. D-Don't, don't cry mom," Flynn apologised. Skyler hurriedly dabbed her eyes.

"I'm fine Flynn, don't apologise. We're allowed to… No, scratch that, we _should _talk about your uncle Hank. It's what you do when you love somebody," Skyler lamented.

Flynn peered out the window, suddenly feeling very anxious about the bustling crowd of strangers outside his door. "Mom, I g-g-guess, if you really wa-want to, I'll let you dr-drive me… but only this once," he conceded.

Skyler looked sadly at her son, "Sweetheart, I know you're scared-"

"I'm n-not scared," Flynn said defensively.

"Okay, okay, honey. Just, when we go out, keep your head down, okay? Stay silent. Whatever you do, don't answer any of their questions," Skyler instructed. Flynn nodded, gulping nervously.

"Okay, here goes. Stay calm, Flynn," Skyler said, opening the door.

In an instant, a flurry of flashlights fired off. Microphones were shoved in Skyler's face, and she was bombarded with questions. Terrified, Holly began to scream hysterically. Skyler shielded Holly's face with her hand.

_"Didn't you question how your husband, a teacher without insurance, afforded his cancer treatment?"_

_"What about buying a carwash? You must've wondered where all that cash came from!"_

_"Are you aware of where he keeps his money? Does he launder it? Through the carwash you manage, perhaps?"_

_"Did you honestly believe Walter's claims of a psychiatric Fugue state during his disappearance?"_

_"And what about you, son? Did you ever suspect your parents' criminal activities?" _

"Don't you dare! You leave my son out of this!" Skyler hissed, blocking Flynn protectively.

_"Mrs White, since you're so keen to be the point of contact here, tell us. Your image as an ignorant housewife. Is that all a front?" _

...

The Assembly Hall was filled with urgent fervent chatter. Flynn could hear it, even before he opened the door. It pissed the hell out of him, all this gossip. The second he stepped into the hall, everyone fell into awkward silence. The silence was so deafening, Flynn could hear his crutches tapping against the floor as he walked.

"Junior, come on in," Principal Carmen Molina spoke gently.

"D-Don't call me that! Don't ever c-c-call me that! I'm Flynn! Fl-Flynn!" he yelled.

"Okay Flynn, I'm sorry. We're all really glad you could make it to school today, I can only imagine how difficult things have been for you lately, given what's… transpired."

"Ohh you m-mean how my dad's a m-murderer drug dealer, and how my mom lied, and how he killed m-m-my Uncle Hank?!" Flynn shouted. "There, I said it! Everybody happy n-n-now?!"

The students stared at their hands, shifting uncomfortably in their seats. "Flynn, you don't know that… The police haven't found your uncle. In all possibility, he's still alive," Principal Molina offered.

Flynn laughed cynically. "You think Un-Uncle Hank tries to c-c-catch dad, then dad lets him live? Are you st-stupid or what?!" Flynn shrieked.

Scanning the crowd, Flynn took a seat beside his best friend Louis. Louis slipped his hand in Flynn's giving it a reassuring squeeze. The principal took a deep shuddering breath, holding the microphone up to her mouth.

"Well, here we are, Albuquerque Secondary School, once again, caught in the midst of extreme tragedy. Through mutual support we overcame the horrors of the Wayfarer 515 plane crash, and today once more, we shall overcome the horrors of the present. Right now, we congregate to gather our thoughts, take stock and most importantly, stay safe."

"Walter White was one of this school's finest, most well regarded teachers. I'm sure he taught a great number of you, and I'm sure many of you admired him. This makes it all the more traumatic to find out that the Walter White we knew doesn't exist."

"That's right, ladies and gentlemen, the Walter White we all thought we knew, is a myth. The kind, helpful, honourable man he once seemed to be, is no longer. And in his place, is a dangerous unrepentant mass-murderer, a methamphetamine manufacturer, a fugitive on the run."

"Now, I must warn you all. Should he ever contact you, you mustn't breathe a word to him. You must contact the police immediately. Be aware that there is a possibility he might turn up at this school, and if he does, it is your civic duty to turn him in."

"If you think you feel betrayed by this man, spare a thought for your fellow student, Flynn White. Now, I expect you to show him the upmost kindness and understanding, given the trials and tribulations his family experience."

"Chemistry classes will be undertaken by substitute teacher Ms Farrago, so you must all turn up for class, as per usual. Remember, stay alert, stay safe, and contact the police whenever you're in doubt. Understood? Alright, students, you're all dismissed."


	5. Ep 5 In Sister We Trust

**Ep. 5 In Sister We Trust**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad... Jesse is turned out of his own house, after it was seized and sold by the Feds, to a single mother. Skyler and Flynn become unwilling objects of the media's white hot glare. Albuquerque High warns its students to be on the lookout for Flynn's fugitive father.

* * *

><p><span><strong>2013<strong>

Jesse glanced at the cash he'd stolen from the gas station. Hardly enough for 2 weeks rent. It was a far cry from his days cooking with Mr White. Mr White… the son of a bitch had probably kicked the bucket by now, just as well. Even so, it was a strange thought, Mr White being dead.

It seemed to Jesse as if the bald bastard was invincible. That the cancer had made him stronger, cleverer, more cunning, more lucky. If Jesse didn't know any better, the only cancer Mr White ever seemed to have, was a cancer of the soul.

As Jesse pulled out of the driveway of his former home, now owned by a single mother and her young child, he caught a glimpse of the boy, nose pressed against the window sill, waving him goodbye. Thoughts of little motherless Brock came flooding into his mind once more, and it was all he could do but scream and punch the dashboard, only he didn't, he just waved at the kid, and drove on.

Jesse had nowhere to go, it was all like Déjà vu. These days, there really only were two people who'd welcome his presence, and it was a toss-up between them. Badger or Skinny Pete. Jesse couldn't decide between the two, and so he flipped a coin. The value of a coin toss: That much he had learnt from Mr White.

…

A large frumpy hassled middle-aged woman stood in the kitchen scrutinising a huge cut of ham baking in the oven. The doorbell rang. Clicking her tongue with irritation, she called out to her son.

"Peter, would you get that please? I'm busy with dinner!" she yelled.

Ignoring his mother, Skinny Pete leaned forward on the couch, firing his gun at the zombies running towards him. "Die motherfuckers, die! 'Rage', awesomest game ever!"

The doorbell rang again. This time more persistently. "Peter, if I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times!"

"Alright, Ma! Keep your panties on!" Skinny Pete whined.

"Now, don't you speak to me that way, young man, or I'll throw you out of this house! Mind, I'm doing you an extravagant favour, here! Fancy a 29 year old man still living with his mother!"

Skinny Pete paused the game, sighing theatrically. Slinking to the door, he opened it moodily, his jaw dropping when he saw who stood on his doorstep.

"Jesse?! No way!" he gasped.

"Didn't know if you still lived here. Still mooching off your mama, dawg?" Jesse smiled.

"You know it! Imma take what I can get, yo!" Skinny Pete grinned. He looked Jesse up and down, letting out a low whistle. "Damn Dawg, you look like shit!"

Jesse shrugged sadly. "Been a rough year, bro."

"I feel ya. Feds been having a major meth crack down ever since Heisenberg kicked it last night. They found him dead in some Nazi meth lab," Skinny Pete recounted.

Jesse felt his heartbeat quicken. So it was official, Mr White was dead. Skinny Pete punched his friend lightly in the arm.

"So uh… what's the deal yo? Last I heard you was cooking some of that tight Heisenberg Blue!"

Jesse shrugged forlornly, "Sure."

Skinny Pete nodded vigorously, slapping Jesse on the arm. "Alright, Jesse! Moving on up in the world!"

"If you can call cooking meth moving on up in the world," Jesse muttered dejectedly.

Skinny Pete frowned, perplexed. "You alright bro? You sound all sad and shit. And uh… no offence, but if you're cooking that sweet blue, you should be rolling in it. Why you dressed like some homeless dude?"

"It's a long story," Jesse sighed.

"I got time, brother!" Skinny Pete enthused, pointing at Jesse's face. "Oh and what's that on yo face? Some scars and shit? You been fighting, dawg? Going all gansta-shit on me?"

Feeling beyond exhausted and in dire need of a bath and a bed, Jesse kicked the dirt in frustration. "Yo Bitch! You gonna grill me all night, or you gonna let me in?!"

"Oh um… see, my Ma-" Skinny Pete hesitated.

"Peter! Who is that at the door? It's not one of your scoundrel criminal friends, again, is it?!" Skinny Pete's mother yelled.

"Relax, Ma! It's no one!" Skinny Pete whined.

"I swear to God, Peter, if it's one of those godforsaken Badger or Pinkman assholes, you're out of here! Do I make myself clear?!"

"Alright Ma! Chill the hell out!" Skinny Pete yelled.

"Look dawg, I'd love to help a brother out, but I don't got no money. Ever since you gone selling that Sky without me, I got nothing. Ma says I gotta be good if I wanna crash with her," Skinny Pete apologised.

Jesse shook his head, walking away. "It's fine, Skinny. Don't sweat it."

"Hey, don't you got all that money from selling Sky? Can't you like, rent a place, or something?!"

"It's all gone, spent all of it. Fast cars, hard drugs, easy women. Y'know how it goes," Jesse lied half-heartedly.

Skinny Pete's face lit up. "Aww man, I miss that shit! That's the way to live, dawg!" he sighed wistfully.

Jesse shook his head. "It's not. If you ever got money to spare, go to College or whatever. Get a trade."

Skinny Pete scratched his head. "What's different, bro? You changed. Got all, serious, depressed and shit."

Jesse smiled sadly, saluting his friend. "Life, I guess. Well, see you around, Skinny."

* * *

><p><span><strong>2012<strong>

Marie stepped into the DEA office, thin, pale and sleep-deprived. Keeping her hand in her pocket, she kept a closed fist around her purple rock. She squeezed it so tightly, its rough edges cut into the palm of her hand, but she didn't care. It was a piece of Hank. The only piece of him she had left.

_"Jesus Christ, Marie! How many times do I have to tell you, it's a mineral! And not just any mineral, Marie. This one here's an Amethyst. Got it for ya cuz I know how ape-shit you go for purple stuff." _

"Marie? Lovely to see you," Tim Roberts, a tall ashy-haired African American DEA agent greeted.

"Oh Hi. Hi Tim," Marie said vaguely, squeezing the amethyst tightly.

"How… How are you holding up these days, Marie?" Tim asked cautiously.

"Fine. Fine, I guess," Marie muttered.

"Can I just say that your husband Hank is a very dear friend of ours, and we are doing absolutely everything we can to find him. We've dropped all other matters. Finding Hank and Steven is our absolute number one priority," Tim said gently.

"Right… that's good," Marie said distractedly.

"Can I get you some tea? Coffee? Offer you a seat?" Tim asked.

"Fine, sure. I'm actually… well truth be told, I'm not here to chit-chat."

"Oh?" Tim asked.

Marie took a deep halting breath. "I have information relevant to this investigation."

Tim placed one hand on Marie's back, directing her into his office. Shutting this door, he turned to Marie. "You have information pertaining to… what exactly?"

"My sister's involvement in Walter White's criminal activities," Marie announced. "She launders his money."


	6. Ep 6 Better Not Call Saul

**Ep. 6 Better not call Saul**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… Skinny Pete turns Jesse down, so as not to get thrown out of his mother's house. Blaming Hank's disappearance on Skyler's deceit, an embittered Marie approaches the police with information regarding her sister's betrayal.

* * *

><p><strong><span>2012<span>**

"Bloody goddamned fuck," Skyler muttered.

The ATM machine had refused, yet again, to cough up her cash. It wasn't as if she was poor. As the ATM screen clearly showed, her bank account (one of many) was overflowing with dough. So why the hell wasn't the damn machine working? Skyler stormed into the bank, flicking her ATM card at the bank teller.

"I have $900,000 in this bank account, why can't I withdraw a single dime from it?" she demanded.

The bank teller scrutinised Skyler's ATM card. Her head snapped up, and her eyes widened with alarm. "You're Mrs Skyler White, aren't you?"

"Yes I am. I take it you've seen my face on the news?" Skyler said begrudgingly. The teller's face hardened instantly, and she pushed the ATM card towards Skyler.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but we can't accept this card."

"What do you mean, you can't accept this card?" Skyler snapped. The teller read Skyler's account details on-screen.

"This account has been frozen by the government. In fact, from what I can see here, _all_ your accounts with this bank, have been frozen."

Skyler's heart dropped to her stomach. "No, that can't be right, all of this money, I've rightly earned. None of it comes from my husband, if he's the problem here."

"Somehow, I highly doubt that," the teller snickered.

"What did you just say?" Skyler seethed.

The teller pursed her lips. "You'll have to take it up with the District Court, if you wish to contest this."

"You can't be serious! I haven't done anything wrong. I can't seriously be being punished for my husband's misdemeanors!" Skyler scoffed.

"This isn't my decision, it's the action of the Federal Police. Now, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Mrs White," the teller warned.

"No, don't- don't call me that," Skyler huffed. "Call me Skyler. Skyler _Lambert_. That's my maiden name. For god sakes, my husband and I, we're two separate people, you understand?"

"Like I said, you'll need to take this up with the District Court, Mrs White."

"It's Lambert! Ms Lambert!" Skyler exploded, slamming her fist against the counter in frustration.

"Am I going to need to call security on you?" the teller questioned. Skyler threw her arms up in surrender.

"Okay, okay, Jesus! Calm down, I'm leaving," Skyler huffed, hurrying out of the bank.

Climbing into her car, Skyler drove to work in a foul embittered mood. Climbing out of the car, she marched up to the front door of her carwash with a sense of unease and foreboding sitting in the pit of her stomach. Her foresight was rewarded with a notice plastered on the front door.

"_This Property has been seized by the United States Federal Government on application of the Drug Enforcement Administration and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, in lieu of Section 31.1.5 of the Comprehensive Crime Control Act. If you wish to contest this seizure, you must do so by filing a Notice of Contestation with the New Mexico District Court by 1st June 2012."_

Skyler stumbled backwards, shocked and deeply rattled. Did the Feds think (know) she was involved in Walter's crimes? And if so, to what extent? Mere knowledge of, or actual participation in? Tax evasion? Laundering? Financial fraud? Harbouring a criminal?

Skyler grew pale and shaky as the worries began multiplying in her head. From behind her, an A1 employee strolled up to the front door, read the sign and clicked his tongue.

"Property seizure, huh? That's what you get for being married to that Heisenberg psycho. Guess I'm out of a job now, huh?" the employee sighed.

"You think?" Skyler snapped.

"Damn, life's a bitch," the employee shrugged, walking off. "Guess I gotta go move in with my mother, now."

"Bloody fucking Feds," Skyler grumbled.

Instinctively, as any fugitive's wife would, Skyler reached for her cell phone, dialing Saul Goodman. Son of a bitch always knew what to do in situations like these. Skyler cringed at Saul's gratingly sing-song voice.

"Ahh! If it isn't my favourite sassy little lady?!"

"Hello Saul," Skyler said flatly.

"Now tell me. What can I do you for? Hah! Get it? What can I _do you _for?"

"Jesus," Skyler sighed grumpily.

"Because I'd pay the big bucks for a night with you," Saul grinned.

"Stop it." Skyler said firmly.

"You got it! So, what's _cooking_? Some Blue _Skye_, perhaps?" Saul sniggered at his own joke.

"For the love of God, enough," Skyler breathed. Hearing the tense desperation on the other end of the line, Saul straightened up, frowning.

"You… alright there, little lady?"

"Would I be calling you if I was?" Skyler snapped. Saul shrugged.

"Fair point. But to be perfectly honest, I'd always hoped that once your husband was out of the picture you'd… y'know, return my affections."

"Affections? You're disgusting," Skyler snorted. "Look, Saul. The feds have confiscated my business and frozen my assets."

Saul laughed nervously, "I hate to say it, Skye, but I can't fix this. There's nada I can do about any of it."

"What?! What do you mean, you can't fix this? You're the King of fixing this!"

"Skyler, do you have any idea what kind of trouble I'm in right now?! All kinds of trouble, that's what! No thanks to that husband of yours! Right now I'm too busy being a client to be your lawyer," Saul retorted. "Capiche?"

Skyler rubbed her forehead gingerly. "Oh God, please don't tell me the Feds are on your case too."

Saul laughed nervously, "Well look, they're sniffing around. But let me assure you, I'm no rat. I'm saying nada to those people, alright? So don't get your panties in a twist."

"Who else am I supposed to call to help me with this? How the hell am I supposed to pay the bills? Meet the final payments for Walt's chemo? Flynn's physio? His tuition fees? What about the rest of the mortgage on the house?!"

"Wait a minute. Your husband's a millionaire, and you're telling me you haven't paid the mortgage on your house?" Saul scoffed.

"I had to be realistic and pay it off by installments. It would've looked suspicious if I paid it all off in one go," Skyler snapped.

"Like I told you from day one, you should've accepted the Laser Tag place! It came with an excellent Danny. You, Skyler, are no Danny. You can't even launder enough money to pay off your mortgage!" Saul laughed.

Skyler seethed silently. "Okay, look. Joking aside, Saul, I need you. I want you-"

"Just say that in bed, and you're golden," Saul teased. Skyler bubbled with irritation. It was lucky she was calling this idiot, and not speaking to him in person, because she was _this _close to punching his lights out.

"Saul, I want you to be my lawyer. There's simply no one else on the face of this planet shady enough to do my bidding! I'm guilty, okay? Guilty as fucking charged, so I need a crooked lawyer to defend me!"

"Keep your voice down! What, are you trying to get caught?" Saul whispered loudly. "Look, the way I see it, you can't afford me anymore, anyway."

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Skyler seethed.

"What? I'm just sayin'! The Feds froze your money and confiscated your laundering machine, you have no idea where your runaway husband hid his meth dough, so there you go. You can't afford me."

"You son of a bitch. If I go down, you go down too, This is as much your crime, as it is mine, as it is Walter's," Skyler threatened. At this, Saul lost his temper.

"You think I want this? You think I want any of this? When I took your husband on, I had no idea. No idea of the lengths he'd go to. Your husband is the most fucked up, psychopathic individual I have ever met! And who am I? His pawn, a fly caught in his web of certifiable psycho! Constantly struggling to cover his ass, which is the size of Texas, might I add!"

Skyler was, by now, shaking with adrenaline. "Saul, listen to me. You _will _cover his ass and mine, one more time, or so help me God, I will-"

"Or so help me God, you will what? Turn me in? How are you going to tell the Feds you know who I am without revealing your involvement in Walt's activities? If I remember correctly, you're playing the role of a clueless housefrau, aren't you?" Saul answered icily.

"For God sakes, Saul, be reasonable."

"No, no, _you _be reasonable. Because let me set it out nice and clear for you, lady. You don't want to threaten me, because when it comes to cat and mouse lawyering games, I'm the motherfucking Heisenberg around here."


	7. Ep 7 Painting Wallflowers

**Ep. 7 Painting Wallflowers**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… Skyler discovers the Federal Government has frozen her bank accounts and seized her carwash, leaving her penniless. Her attempts to coerce Saul into representing her sours, as Saul tells her he'll destroy her if she harasses him.

* * *

><p><span><strong>2012<strong>

Exhausted, pale and sleep-deprived, Skyler dragged her feet along the pavement, breathing against the suffocating anxiety crushing and twisting her insides. Stepping into the Legal Aid Office, she eased herself into a cheap plastic chair, feeling very disheartened at the green-horned baby faced lawyer in front of her.

He extended a hand, "Hi, I'm Rex Wong. How may I help you?"

"Skyler Lambert," Skyler greeted.

"What can I do for you today, Ms Lambert," the young lawyer asked.

"I can't afford a lawyer, and well, I need one. Desperately," Skyler sighed.

Rex swept his arms across the room. "Well, here I am. Your free, government-funded Legal Aid lawyer. What can I do for you?"

Skyler rubbed the back of her neck. Where the hell could she begin? There was so much to tell. The thought of going through the entire story, from the moment Walt first began cooking, to the moment he took off exhausted her beyond comprehension, and so, she chose a different approach.

"Let's just keep it simple, here, Mr Wong. I'm Skyler _White, _and I assume you know the rest."

Rex's eyes widened with shock. "No… Are you telling me? You're Skyler White, wife of MIA drug lord Heisenberg?" he whispered.

"You got it. Mind if I smoke?" Skyler said flatly.

"Far be it for me to refuse the wife of The Great Heisenberg," Rex laughed nervously.

Skyler rolled her eyes, lighting up. Taking a deep drag of her cigarette, she eyed the baby-faced lawyer before her. The guy looked barely out of his teens. He still had acne, for Christ sake. Skyler somehow already knew, just by looking at his nervous little face, that she was done for.

The legal aid lawyer stared at Skyler, his mouth agape. He had no idea how to deal with the fact that the hottest client of the American legal world had just landed on his doorstep.

"Um… okay Mrs White, would y-you like anything to drink? S-some tea, perhaps?" he squeaked.

* * *

><p><span><strong>2013<strong>

Jesse approached the motel where Badger resided. He'd forgotten which room number was Badger's, but it wasn't hard to guess. The whole row of motel rooms were dead silent, save and except for the loud pounding trippy music and boisterous laughter reverberating through the walls of flat 15E.

Jesse knocked on the door. Badger answered, looking high as a kite. He squinted at Jesse. "Dude, I feel like I should know you, but it's just not coming to me at the moment," he slurred.

"Seriously, asshole, it's me, Jesse!" Jesse snapped. Badger's eyes widened with delight.

"Jesse?! No way, man! Sorry, didn't recognise you cuz, y'know, you got fucking big-as pink rabbit ears poking out of your head! Damn, you should see yourself, this shit is dope!" Badger guffawed.

"Oh yeah? And what are you on, man? Acid? Party looks like the bomb," Jesse said.

"You bet! A little Lucy never hurt nobody. Got my Pink Floyd going on, a few trippy posters on the wall… Y'know you should join us. Nothing gets the party started like a little Pinkman, am I right?"

Jesse glanced around Badger's flat. The place was a stinking filthy druggy whorehouse. Broken glass, sticky bongs, scattered powder, LSD tabs, empty bottles, stale pizza and used needles were strewn all over the floor. Sleep-deprived, spaced-out people swayed to the music, hooligans spray-painted the walls, and ODers lay unconscious on the floor. Jesse smiled, feeling completely and utterly at home.

"Hey, uh, mind if I crash?" Jesse asked.

"What?!" Badger yelled. "Can't hear you over the music!"

"I said, mind if I crash?!" Jesse shouted.

"Hell yeah, you little bastard! Get in here!" Badger grinned, throwing his arm around Jesse's neck. "Would I ever say no to Heisenberg's Disciple?!"

"I'm not Heisenberg's disciple," Jesse bristled.

Badger shook Jesse's shoulder vigorously. "Sure you are! Take credit where it's due, man! That sick mofo's dead now, and you've taken his torch!" Badger enthused.

"Whatever," Jesse muttered, too exhausted to argue.

"That's the spirit! If you're Heisenberg's man, you gotta own it!" Badger yelled. "Now, open your mouth."

"What?" Jesse sighed irritably.

"Dawg, I said open your mothafucking mouth and stick your tongue out!" Badger repeated.

"Badge… I'm not in the fucking mood, yo!" Jesse whined, pushing Badger's hand away.

"Do it, do it, do it, do it!" Badger chanted aggressively.

Badger pumped his fist in the air, encouraging everyone to join in. They did so, with an increasing crescendo of chants. An entire room of crazy-eyed party animals, all cowing down to Badger's every demand. Jesse was reminded of his own parties, back when his girl Jane OD'd to death. Back then, Jesse used to hurl money into the air, feeding his minions like the rabid dogs they were. He wondered if Badger did the same.

"DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!" the crowd chanted unrelentingly.

Cursing his diminishing willpower, Jesse opened his mouth. Badger placed an acid tab on Jesse's tongue. As the thin translucent paper dissolved on his tongue, the crowd roared with applause.

"There you go, buddy, welcome to the party!" Badger grinned.

Without warning, Badger reached over to his boom box, pausing the music. The room full of ravers paused mid-dance, staring at him, annoyed and perplexed. Badger grasped Jesse by the shoulder, shoving him forwards.

"Alright, everybody, this here, is Jesse. He's not just any friend of mine, he's my best friend. My best friend, ya hear? Cuz ever since Skinny went faggy and legit on me, Jesse's all I got!" Badger announced.

"Turn the music back on, you asshole!" a raver yelled.

"Yeah, turn it back on!" yelled another, chucking pizza at Badger.

"I think they get the picture, Badge." Jesse said awkwardly.

Badger slapped Jesse on the back. "Naww man! They gotta know! I'm full of love today, and they gotta know! Everyone's gotta know how much you mean to me!"

"What are you, a faggot?!" another raver shouted. "Turn the music back on!"

"Do any of you bitches know Heisenberg?!" Badger called out.

"Seriously man, we don't have to do this," Jesse groaned. Badger ignored Jesse, continuing.

"Well Jesse here, he used to work with Heisenberg! They cooked together, motherfuckers!" The entire room burst into excited awestruck chatter. Badger nodded his head vigorously, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"That's right, get excited, bitches! My man Jesse's cooked with Heisenberg, and now the guy's kicked it, Jesse's taken over making that sweet fly Blue!"

Badger pumped his fists in the air. "So we gonna show him a good time?! We gonna show Heisenberg Jr. a good mothafucking time, bitches?!"

The entire room burst into delirious cheers, as they surrounded Jesse, inundating him with admiration and praise. Badger turned up the music, disappearing into the crowd. Caught in the throng, the energy and the music, as the LSD dissolved into Jesse's blood stream, Jesse stared up at the ceiling, grinning at the multi-coloured floral patterns blooming before his eyes.

For the first time in eons, Jesse felt at home. And the best part was, there was no more goddamn Mr White _knocking on his door_ (so to speak), demanding he cook a batch, melt a body or apply himself.


	8. Ep 8 Call me Mrs White

**Ep. 8 Call me Mrs White**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… A homeless penniless Jesse crashes with Badger. To Jesse's dismay, Badger celebrates Jesse's status as the late Heisenberg's prodigy. Skyler, now broke after the government's confiscation of her money and carwash, turns to Legal Aid for help.

* * *

><p><strong><span>2012<span>**

Skyler sipped gingerly on her tea, staring at her Legal Aid lawyer. "So, Mr Wong, are you up to speed on my situation? Given the extensive media-coverage it's received, I can only assume you are. I'm willing to fill in any gaps in your knowledge," she prompted.

Rex Wong smiled tensely at Skyler. "Ma'am-"

"Call me Skyler. Given my currently extensive legal woes, we're going to get very well acquainted, so we might as well be on a first name basis," Skyler said, sucking on her cigarette.

"Right, well, Skyler. Here's the thing. I'm a 23 year old legal aid lawyer with 7 months of work experience. I graduated from an unknown polytechnic night school with a GPA of 2.1. Hell, I barely managed to pass the Bar," Rex shrugged helplessly.

Skyler raised her eyebrows, "Have you always had such a low self-esteem, Mr Wong?"

Rex laughed nervously. "Look, what I'm saying is, I'm just a kid, pretty much. I'm used to stuff like landlord-tenancy agreements, shoplifting, drink-driving. I'm not… I'm cut out for defending the wife of a freakin' mass-murdering meth kingpin!"

"Well _get _cut out for it," Skyler snapped. "Because I need your services, and I need them now. This is Legal Aid, and I'm entitled, as a tax-paying American citizen!"

Rex smiled sarcastically, "_Tax-paying_? Really?"

"Shut up," Skyler muttered.

"In all honesty, what are you even doing here? A woman like you? Wife of the most prolific drug manufacturer in the nation! Surely you have connections to some, oh I dunno, big-shot shady gangsta lawyers?"

"I did, but he's being investigated by the Feds right now," Skyler grumbled. "Believe me, I tried to force his hand into acting for me, but y'know, blackmail doesn't exactly go down well on crooked lawyers."

Rex wrung his hands nervously. "Right, well, are you going to blackmail me into acting for you too?"

Skyler shook her head, exhaling smoke through her nostrils. "No, I'm just going to hope you'll take me on, out of… ambition, drive, morbid curiosity, a sense of thrill and adrenalin. I don't know, pick your poison."

Rex bit his lips thoughtfully. Accepting Skyler as a client would indeed send Rex's lukewarm career and non-existent reputation skyrocketing to the likes of Johnny Cochran (the dude who defended OJ, famous for that_ "If the glove don't fit, you must acquit" _line). He would instantly become the Michael Phelps of the legal world.

"Okay… I-I'll think about it. Just answer me this. Surely you have piles of drug money hidden somewhere, you could use to pay some top-notch hired gun? What do you need Legal Aid for?"

"Before Walt took off, he buried the money, but neglected to tell me where. Let's just say, for a brilliant criminal mastermind, he was at times, sloppy. What else can I tell you? The Feds seized my carwash business, and froze all my bank accounts."

"I see," Rex nodded. "And your family home?"

"They haven't seized that 'll probably do so in the near future, but regardless, I'll lose it to the bank because I can't keep up with my mortgage payments, now that my husband's Well has dried up."

"You want me to help you contest the seizure?" Rex asked.

"You got it," Skyler sighed, stubbing out her cigarette. "Now, any other questions, comments?"

Rex shook his head slowly. "No, just to say that I'm going to have my work cut out for me."

…

"Oh Marie, please, do come in!" the therapist said eagerly. "Please, have a seat. Would you like anything to drink? Some water, tea, coffee?"

"Tea will do fine," Marie answered. The therapist placed a steaming teacup on the coffee table, taking a seat in his big plush velvet chair.

"Marie, it's been a long time since we've spoken. The last time, I believe, was three months ago. You had informed me that you found out a very serious and devastating family secret; and you were so angry that…" the doctor let his voice trail off.

"-That I was discussing various forms of untraceable poisons. I believe I settled on Saxitoxin, a paralytic shellfish derivative produced by certain species of marine dinoflagellates," Marie stated matter-of-factly.

The therapist smiled tightly. "Right, well, we needn't get into the details of that thought process. Sufficed to say, the family secret, the substance of which you felt compelled not to divulge… I assume it has to do with your fugitive brother-in-law, Walter White?"

Marie laughed bitterly, "Bet that when I told you I'd discovered a terrible family secret, you never guessed it was that my brother-in-law is a psychotic murderous terrorist drug lord," Marie answered bitterly.

"I have to say, no. I did not anticipate that," the therapist admitted quietly.

"Any chance you might've anticipated that he murdered my husband in cold blood?" Marie demanded.

The therapist watched Marie sympathetically. "Marie, that is a subject matter I'm interested in delving into this session. Your husband, Hank Schrader. I can only imagine how horrifically traumatising that must be for you."

"No, no, you cannot imagine. Nobody can possibly imagine what it's like when a man you've loved as family for almost two decades, your sister's husband, the father of the niece and nephew you'd lay your life down for… Turns around a-and murders your husband!" Marie snapped, her voice rising.

"Alright, I understand, Marie. I sincerely apologise for coming across as presumptuous or insensitive. I certainly cannot fathom what you're going through, but if it would help, I'd certainly appreciate it if you could share it with me," the therapist appeased.

Marie kept one hand in her pocket, squeezing Hank's purple Amethyst stone tightly. "I-I don't know what to say, where to begin. I suppose, for starters, I've got to face this whole… being a widow thing."

"Okay, Marie. May I just interject, here? I have been following your… situation on the news, and-"

"You and the whole fucking world," Marie interrupted sourly.

"Right, well, I am aware that both your brother-in-law and your husband are currently missing. There is no conclusive evidence to suggest that Hank has come to any harm," the therapist continued.

"You're familiar with the Holly White kidnap, right?" Marie demanded.

"Why yes, your niece was taken by your brother-in-law, then left at a fire station, I believe."

"That's right. Well, that day Holly was kidnapped, Walt called Skyler, and went on this crazed raging raving rant, calling her a 'bitch' and what have you," Marie breathed. "But here… Here is the kicker, so listen close. He said to Skyler, and I quote verbatim, '_You will never see Hank again_.'"

The therapist watched Marie gravely. Marie threw her hands up in the air. "Now what do you suppose that means if not that Walt's murdered my husband?!" she shrieked.

"You're right, that does indeed seem to be what the statement implies," the therapist struggled. "In any case, Marie, until the investigation is over, it is far too early to close the book on your husband. There is always a possibility Hank remains alive. The important thing is to stay hopeful, and to look to your friends and family for support. Is there anyone you could turn to for that?"

"For what? Support?" Marie snorted derisively.

"Yes, Marie, a support network is vital for you right now. What about your sister? You have always spoken highly of her. I'm sure you two would share a common bond, given she must also be reeling from the trauma of discovering her husband's criminal nature," the therapist suggested. Marie smiled cynically.

"Ohh my sister knew about Walt's criminal nature, alright. In fact, she was in on it from day one: lying for him, covering for him, laundering his money," Marie spat.

"Now, Marie. That is a very serious accusation against a person you love. So I have to ask you, are you absolutely sure this is true?" the therapist questioned.

"Sure enough to have turned her in to the police," Marie replied coldly.


	9. Ep 9 Son of a Gun

**Ep. 9 Son of a Gun**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… With an aim to retrieving her confiscated assets, Skyler manages to persuade a subpar unexperienced Legal Aid lawyer to represent her. Marie pays a visit to her therapist, where she admits to having turned her sister in to the police.

* * *

><p><span><strong>2012<strong> 

Flynn had noticed something very odd, as of late. For his whole life he had been a social pariah, with nobody, but his one friend Louis Baker by his side. But lately, ever since his dad took off, Flynn was becoming… popular, if only among the kids in his remedial classes. It was an odd sensation he'd never experienced before, and to be perfectly honest, he liked it.

"Yo Flynn, over here, bro!" Callum called out.

Flynn looked at the empty seat beside Louis, a place he'd sat at for ten years running, ever since they met at Special Needs at age seven. Louis watched Flynn intently, a betrayed look in his sad brown eyes.

"Get your ass over here, man! We saved you a seat," Evan yelled.

Flynn turned away from Louis, walking over to the huge group of rowdy boys in the back row. Callum slapped Flynn on the back, wiggling his eyebrows mockingly at the rejected Louis. Flynn stared at his notebook, pushing his guilty conscience to the back of his mind. A stern stocky woman trotted into the classroom, scrawling on the blackboard in chalk.

_REMEDIAL MATHEMATICS _

"So, why are you all here today?" the teacher asked.

When no one replied, she answered. "Because you're in need of a little extra help if you are to keep pace with your peers. And you know what? There's nothing wrong with that, we aren't all born Walter Whites."

Flynn froze at the sound of his father's name. To him, that name had come to signify horror and shame. Not so, to his new group of friends, for one punched Flynn mirthfully in the shoulder.

"Hear that, dude? You Pops is so famous now, he's a noun for 'smart'!" Amos grinned. The teacher rubbed her hands together.

"So, let us start with the basics. Fractions. I know many of you may deem fractions as infantile, but your mid-year standardised tests indicate that it is something we need to work on. Besides, it never hurts to revise the basics. So, let's begin."

…

"So hey, we're headed to the back of the gym for lunch," Callum said.

"Wh-Why do you guys w-w-wanna go there?" Flynn asked.

"You'll find out. Trust me, you'll love it," Callum grinned. "It'll be totally up your alley, given who your Pops is. C'mon."

The group were a bunch of odd maladjusted kids. There was Callum, fit muscular and Aryan; Evan a tiny bespectacled kid; Amos a red headed boy with acne issues; and Mickey, your run-of-the-mill average Joe. They were all extremely different from each other, but for their shared fascination with illicit substances and in particular, the _Son of Heisenberg. _

"So hey, here we are, nice quiet secluded spot," Mickey grinned, fishing a joint from his pocket. "Here Flynn, I'll light you up."

Flynn shook his head nervously, "Nah g-g-guys, I th-think I'll pass."

"Dude, your dad is _the _Heisenberg, and you're telling me you don't do grass?" Evan asked incredulously.

Callum lit a joint up, holding out in front of Flynn, "C'mon, don't be a pussy. Go on, take it."

Flynn took it reluctantly, taking a half-hearted drag. He doubled over, coughing furiously. The boys cheered. "Alright, Flynn! Filling your pop's boots one step at a time!"

"So, you like it?" Amos asked.

"It's o-okay I-I guess," Flynn coughed.

"Y'know, if I'd known how badass your dad was, I would've taken chem classes. Sucks that I never got a chance to know him," Callum lamented, inhaling his joint.

Evan pointed at Flynn, "C'mon man, have another go at it."

Flynn tried again, inhaling the joint, only to end up spluttering and choking again. Amos shook his head, amused. "Dude, you're nothing like your pops. Don't get out much, huh?"

Flynn shrugged, "N-Not really, I guess."

"So tell us, what's your dad like?" Evan enquired. "I mean, what was he like before he took off?"

Flynn took another suck of the joint, this time coughing less. "Du-Dunno, he was j-j-just my dad."

"Yeah but were you in on it? Did you ever like see him… cook?" Mickey prompted.

Amos nudged Flynn in the ribs, "Or better yet, did he ever let _you _cook?"

"Cook?" Flynn asked, confused.

"Yeah cook! Blue Sky!" Amos said impatiently. "Did he ever teach you to cook that shit?"

Flynn shook his head. The boys around him were visibly disappointed, looking worryingly close to losing interest in him. Flynn was desperate not to return to life as a pariah.

"I uh s-saw his eq-quipment once," Flynn lied hastily.

The boys eyes lit up. "Seriously? Whoa, that's awesome. Like what kinda equipment?" Callum demanded.

Flynn shrugged, making something up on the spot. "Like dunno, th-th-those little t-t-test tube things…" The circle of boys nodded vigorously, eating Flynn's story up. "Um, yeah, them, a-and they had some er… bl-blue coloured stuff inside."

"Aww man, kick ass! If you saw blue stuff in them, that would've been that freakin' Heisenberg Blue!" Mickey enthused.

"Damn, what I'd give to give that stuff a try," Evan lamented. Callum eyed Flynn puffing increasingly proficiently on his joint.

"Oh hey, look at that! He's getting the hang of it," Callum grinned.

Amos exhaled on his joint. "Wouldn't expect any less from Heisenberg Junior."

On any other day that phrase Heisenberg Junior would've upset Flynn, offend, hurt, disgust and devastate him. But the way these boys said it, with pride, with admiration, lit a certain devilish fuse within Flynn.

Even though he felt crushing guilt at ditching Louis, and (even more awfully so) for conveniently ignoring the fact his father was responsible for his uncle's disappearance, the darker part of him thought, "Hey, no one's ever wanted to hang out with me before, but now they all do, and all I gotta do is be this Heisenberg's son."

…

Skyler scanned the papers, desperate for a job. Now that her carwash had been seized, and her bank accounts frozen, the bills had to be paid from legitimate money. She heard Flynn bounding down the stairs on his crutches.

"Where are you off to, young man?" she asked.

"Mi-Mickey's place. Callum, A-A-Amos and Evan are all gonna be there," Flynn announced with pride.

Skyler raised her eyebrows. "Those aren't names I've ever heard before, young man."

Flynn shrugged, "Just some guys from Re-Remedial Math."

As far as she knew, Flynn had only ever had one friend, and that was the loyal Louis Baker. "Okay… But aren't you going to invite Louis?"

Flynn crinkled his nose with distaste. "Naww, L-Louis wouldn't fit in with these guys."

"Flynn! That's no way to speak of your friend. He's been a good friend to you for almost ten years. Y'know, he's been calling here, asking for you, sounding pretty disappointed that you don't pick up. You haven't had a quarrel with him, have you?"

Flynn rolled his eyes. "No! We're fine. Louis and me are f-f-fine, mom. Okay? Can I go now, or wh-what?" he whined.

Skyler waved her hand, "Oh alright, get out of here, then."


	10. Ep 10 Ex Parte

**Ep. 10 Ex Parte**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… Flynn is quickly seduced by the instant popularity that comes from being the Son of America's most Wanted Criminal. He ditches his best friend Louis, and falls into bad company, trying marijuana for the first time.

* * *

><p><strong><span>2013 <span>**

Badger woke up, tired, groggy and painfully sober. He untangled himself from a number of sleeping ravers, squinting at the slats of morning sunshine filtering into his motel.

"Breakfast?" Jesse offered, dropping burnt buttered toast onto two plates, and filling a jug with orange juice.

"Breakfast. Really?" Badger asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, breakfast. Buttered toast, orange juice, whatever," Jesse shrugged.

"What are you on, man? I don't got fucking toast and juice," Badger laughed. "All I got is coke, pizza, and well, _coke_."

"I went to the supermarket, stocked your fridge with the basics. Whatevs, no big deal."

Badger frowned at Jesse. "You're not… You're not going postal, on me, are you?"

Jesse bit into his toast. "I'm fine."

"Dude, what're you even up this early for? And what's with the whole housewifey '_I made you breakfast_' bullshit?" Badger enquired.

Jesse shrugged irritably. "It's just toast, man. Chill the fuck out."

"Okay… It's just weird, that's all."

"If you want me to take off, say so," Jesse bristled.

Badger threw his arms up in the air. "Naw man, nothing like that. Don't need to get tetchy! Just wondering why you're all like… different, that's all."

"I don't know what you're bitching about, yo. It's just breakfast," Jesse said between mouthfuls of toast.

"It's like- like, you're suddenly all… saintly and shit. And your face, what's up with that? It's all like scarred and shit. What, you get knifed, or something? Seriously, what's the deal with you?" Badger questioned.

"Is this how it's gonna be? You gonna bug the shit outta me like some bitch wife, the whole time I'm crashing here?" Jesse snapped.

"Nah man, just wondering! Y'know, where you been, what you been doing," Badger eyed Jesse curiously.

Jesse shrugged, "Nowhere, nothing, same old."

"Huh," Badger scoffed, unconvinced.

"Look man, I don't know what you want. A fucking biography on my life?" Jesse argued.

Badger laughed nervously, "Chill dude! I'm just sayin', you just dropped off the face of the planet for like a year! Then Skinny and me, we hear it straight from Heisenberg that you're cooking that fly sky!"

"You spoke to that asshole?" Jesse seethed quietly.

"You guys had a falling out before he kicked it, or something?" Badger asked.

"What the hell does that son of a bitch want with you guys? Cuz it sure ain't to sell his product, since you guys fucking suck at that," Jesse snapped.

"Whoa whoa man, you don't gotta get all mean about it," Badger whined. Jesse glared furiously at Badger.

"Okay? Apparently you guys _did _have a falling out. But listen, bro, Heisenberg just wanted Skinny and me to do him a favour by freaking out some rich folk he used to work with. Paid us well, too."

"What?! What exactly, in detail, did that asshole get you to do?!" Jesse demanded.

"Whoa, hey! Look, buddy. You're not the only one with questions. Don't you think I got some too? Like, why if you're cooking Heisenberg Blue, are you crashing at my place, dressed like a hobo? You should be rich! What's with that?" Badger huffed.

Jesse stood up abruptly. "I think I've overstayed my welcome," he muttered. Badger hurried over to Jesse, stepping over various groggy partygoers lying on the floor.

"C'mon dude! Don't just up and leave, when I'm talking to you!" Badger said tetchily.

Jesse glared at Badger. Badger waved his hand dismissively. "Y'know what? You don't want to tell me where you been all this time, or why you're pissed off at some dead guy, fine. Just… just do me a favour, would you?"

"What?!" Jesse yelled.

Badger leaned into Jesse, conspiringly. "Tell me you'll cook us some Heisenberg. Just cuz the bastard's dead, don't mean his Sky gotta be too."

* * *

><p><strong><span>2012<span>**

In the huge mahogany Court room sat all but two people: a District Court Judge and a lawyer representing the DEA.

"Your Honour, I'm here today seeking an Ex Parte application to seize the White residence on a temporary basis, on grounds that it was purchased through finances gained from selling illicit substances."

Justice Mayfair pointed at a document in front of her. "I understand this document here, is an accounting report demonstrating that a significant portion of the mortgage on the family home was paid for through finances that cannot be accounted for via Mr Walter White's salary as a teacher, nor from his unemployment benefits. Is that correct?"

"Yes it is, Your Honour."

"Regardless, you realise I retain the equitable discretion to refuse seizure even if the house was in fact purchased through illegal means, don't you?" Justice Mayfair reminded.

"Why would you do that, Your Honour?" the lawyer sighed.

"In terms of preserving the evidence prior trial, I've already allowed you to freeze Mrs White's bank accounts and seize her allegedly fraudulent business. I am not convinced it is absolutely necessary to deprive her of her family home as well," Justice Mayfair answered.

"Your Honour, we-" the lawyer began.

"Mr Langdon, know that I'll not deprive a single mother of her home prior a formal trial, if there is no evidence beyond mere conjecture, suggesting that she partook in her husband's crimes. Remember, this is a preliminary hearing, not a formal trial," Justice Mayfair interrupted.

"Yes, I understand that, Your Honour. This is why I've brought evidence, a recorded testimony by a one Mrs Marie Schrader, suggesting Mrs White was much more than an innocent party to her husband's criminal activities."

"Huh. Is that so? Well, go ahead, then." Justice Mayfair prompted, intrigued. "If I'm not mistaken, Mrs Schrader is the defendant's sister, is she not?"

The lawyer grinned, "Why yes she is, Your Honour." The lawyer played the recording to the empty Court room.

"_She cooked up this fantastical story about where Walt gained his riches. She said he earned it counting cards. He'd developed a system of card counting at blackjack. This story, I swear it was her invention, not Walt's, because she was doing all the work selling it. Complete even with fake tears!"_

"_I even asked her about this so-called Fugue State of Walt's, and she even had an explanation about that, claiming it was a depression caused by his losing a huge sum of money to gambling, after getting his gambling calculations wrong. What a fucking joke. Seriously." _

"_Then she said she used this money to buy a carwash, and I mean, c'mon, now that I think about it, a carwash? Why in the hell would my sister, just out of the blue, go buy a carwash? Just because Walt used to work in one? Please. To launder Walt's cash, that's why! Yes, I know it sounds farfetched, but hear me out."_

"_You know that Theodore Benneke fellow, the guy with the IRS financial fraud issues? Guess who was his book keeper? That's right, my sister! Now, you'll be interested to know that Walt told my husband, who told me, that Skye was having an affair with Benneke. If Skye was willing to cook the books for her lover, why the hell not for her husband and kids?" _

"_That isn't even the end of it. Months later, when Hank discovered the truth about Walt, and told Skyler, she completely freaked out. She threw a hissy fit, accusing him of trying to arrest her, then she took off! So Hank and I, because we surely couldn't just let it go, we dropped by her house, and I persuaded her to see me."_

"_Then I started questioning her, asking her if she knew about Walt's meth cooking before Hank got shot up in the parking lot, and she turns to me all doe-eyed, and says 'Marie, I'm so sorry.' That's right, she admitted knowing about Walt's drug dealing even before Hank's near assassination!" _

Justice Mayfair stamped the Eviction Notice and Property Seizure Order. "I'm granting this on a strictly temporary basis. You have four months to convince the Director of Public Prosecutions to press formal criminal charges against Mrs White, otherwise this Order expires."

"Four months, that's it?" the lawyer complained. Justice Mayfair nodded.

"And what about the current Orders on the seizure of her carwash and freezing of her bank accounts? Aren't you going to grant us an extension?" the lawyer demanded.

"No. As I've said, you have four months to press formal charges, or she'll get her house, her business, her money back," Justice Mayfair answered curtly.

The lawyer laughed incredulously. "Look, with all due respect, Your Honour, how is the DEA supposed to gather enough evidence against Mrs White within such a short space of time? What if she were to sell all her assets and hide them, the moment they are returned to her?"

Justice Mayfair shrugged. "Not my problem. It's a chance you'd have to take, because we don't live in a dictatorship, Mr Langdon. Innocent till proven guilty, you know that."


	11. Ep 11 When it rains it pours

**Ep. 11 When it Rains it Pours**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… After hearing Marie's recorded evidence against Skyler, the District Court grants the DEA a Temporary Order to evict the Whites from their family home, on grounds of evidence-preservation in preparation for an impending trial against Skyler. Jesse becomes irritable and defensive when Badger questions his activities since his disappearance.

* * *

><p><strong><span>2012<span>**

"Are you going to speak to me anytime in the near future, or is sass the order of the day?" Skyler questioned.

"No," Flynn answered emphatically, stabbing his veggie bacon angrily with his fork.

"No, _what_? Speak to me in full sentences, son." Skyler replied testily.

"No, y-y-you can't sell my c-car away, I won't let you!" Flynn snapped. "Is t-that _full-sentence_ enough for you?!"

"Don't you take that tone with me. We're already behind on mortgage, gas, water and electricity payments, as it is. We hardly have enough to put gas in one car, let alone two. Hell, we don't even have enough money to stock food in the fridge!" Skyler yelled.

"And w-who's fault is that?! Not mine! Why should I sell my car just cuz y-y-you're a liar a-a-and a criminal!" Flynn shouted back.

"A criminal? Who told you I'm a criminal?!" Skyler demanded angrily.

"I heard it! O-one of my teachers said you're… y-you're a co-conspirator in a crime, so you're just as b-b-bad and a criminal as dad!" Flynn yelled.

Skyler's voice softened. "Flynn, you need to understand that this is all just gossip, alright? These teachers are your father's ex-colleagues, many of them are probably disenchanted with him, and-"

"I d-d-don't give a shit! You're just a liar, I-I-I never know if what you say i-i-is lies or not!" Flynn roared, standing up, reaching for his crutches.

"Flynn, this discussion isn't over, yet. Sit down," Skyler ordered.

"No! I-I'm driving myself to school, i-in _my_ car! You can't just sell it away, y-y-you can't!" Flynn snapped, storming out the door. Climbing into the car, he slammed the door, and tore out of the driveway.

"Slow down! Slow down, for Christs sake!" Skyler yelled angrily.

…

Skyler sat in the lobby, wringing her hands nervously. Of over fifty resumes sent out for a book keeping job, none had graduated to an interview, save and except this one. Skyler glanced at her watch every few minutes, butterflies dancing in her stomach.

She ran her hands along her beige pencil skirt, smoothing out the edges. She slipped a stray blonde curl behind her ear, and tapped her feet nervously. If she was going to avoid selling Flynn's car to prevent the electricity from being cut off, this interview had better lead to employment.

"Ms Skyler Lambert," The receptionist invited. Skyler stepped into the office, smiling tightly at the interviewer.

"Hi, I'm Skyler Lambert," Skyler said, extending a hand. The interviewer shook it, pulling out a seat.

"Ellison Cox, pleasure to meet you, Ms Lambert. Please, have a seat. Now, I understand you're here for a book keeping job."

"I am," Skyler replied.

Ellison ran his index finger down Skyler's CV. "There's a large gap in your employment in the year of 2011. Any particular reason?"

"Motherhood," Skyler answered evasively. _Well, that and cooking books for my ex-lover and laundering drug money for my husband…_

"Hmm, aside from the gap in your employment, this is an excellent CV. Glancing at your previous employers, they're all mid-sized firms with excellent reputations," Ellison noted.

Skyler felt her heartbeat quicken. _Please let this amount to a job! God knows how badly I fucking need it! _

"We're just a small company, here. So really, the gap in your employment for child-rearing purposes isn't a problem whatsoever," Ellison appraised. Skyler sighed with relief.

"Now, if you're ready to get cracking, you can start next week on a casual basis," Ellison offered.

"Yes, yes, that would be fantastic,' Skyler said gratefully. Just then, a secretary stepped into the room, a jug of water and two glasses in hand.

"Sir, thought you could both use some water," she said.

Catching Skyler's eyes, her face registered immediate shock. The jug almost slipped right out of her grasp. She grabbed the corner of the boardroom table, to steady herself.

"Monica, what is it?" Ellison asked. The woman pursed her lips, glaring at Skyler accusingly. Skyler felt her heart drop to her stomach. It didn't take a genius to figure out what _this _was about.

"Sir, may I have a private word?" the secretary asked tightly.

"I'm in the middle of an interview with Ms Lambert, here."

"Huh. Ms _Lambert, _huh?" the secretary snorted.

"It's my maiden name," Skyler muttered. The secretary glared at Skyler with hostility.

"Monica, what on earth has gotten into you?" Ellison asked.

"With all due respect Sir, have you been living under a rock?" the secretary retorted. "Watched the news lately, by any chance?"

"Don't take that tone with me, Monica. If you have something to say, say it."

"You know this woman, surely," the secretary sighed, nodding at Skyler.

Skyler felt waves of heat creep into her face, as Ellison turned to study her closely. His eyes widened as recognition dawned upon him. Yes, he had seen that face on the news, often times, as of late.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and correct me if I'm wrong, Ms Lambert, but are you married to that methamphetamine manufacturer?" Ellison asked quietly.

Oh God. Right at that moment, Skyler wanted nothing more than to have the ground swallow her up. But it was all she could do but sit there frozen in fear like the fool she was, watching her first job interview since, well, Benneke, go down the toilet.

"His name is Heisenberg. She's married to Heisenberg," the secretary stated.

"Right, Heisenberg. The bald cook in the black hat," the boss muttered. "Wow, Jesus. The day has certainly taken an unexpected turn."

"And Sir, more relevantly with respect to this job application, according to the papers, she was Theodore Benneke's book keeper," the secretary added sourly.

"Wasn't he being investigated by the IRS for tax fraud? _She _was the book keeper for that man?" Ellison asked. Well, this was a done deal, for sure. Ellison wasn't going to hire Skyler.

"Sorry to have wasted your time," Skyler muttered.

Standing up abruptly, Skyler rushed out of the office, shielding her face with her hands, lest the interviewer and his bitchy secretary caught wind of the humiliated tears springing into her eyes.

* * *

><p><strong><span>2013<span>**

Badger raised his eyebrows at Jesse expectantly. Jesse looked strangely still, shell shocked and glassy-eyed. Badger snapped his fingers in Jesse's face. Jesse could not believe his ears. Badger might as well have hit Jesse over the head with a sledgehammer, for the horror Jesse was feeling.

After being chained to the floor of a makeshift dungeon for almost a year, forced to cook fucking Heisenberg Blue every second of his waking day, here was Badger, asking him to cook another batch! Was Badger fucking kidding him?!

"So? What's the deal, yo?" Badger asked. "You gonna cook a batch for us, or what?"

"I don't do that anymore," Jesse said quietly.

Badger threw his hands up in the air. "Well okay, not for selling, then. If selling don't float your boat, cook for fun! For us, for recreation. I'm thinking of hosting a party tomorrow night… Heisenberg-Themed. Get everyone to shave their heads, wear a hat, or whatever. What do you think? You dig?"

"I. Don't. Do. That. Any. More." Jesse spoke emphatically, his hands curling into fists.

"What's your problem? Why you acting like a little bitch about this?" Badger asked, genuinely perplexed.

It was at that moment that Jesse's emotions imploded within him, like one of Mr White's makeshift bombs going off in his head, or like the freight train he robbed, colliding into him. A guy who was supposed to be his friend, was asking him, _Methamphetamine Slave_, to cook another batch?!

Before Badger could speak another word, Jesse threw himself on top of Badger, teeth bared, like a rabid dog. Jesse proceeded to punch Badger's lights out, going for it, no holds barred, smashing his fist into his friend's teeth.

"I don't do that anymore! I don't do that anymore! I don't do that anymore!" Jesse screamed.

It was only when Badger began gargling on his own blood, and gripping Jesse's shirt pleadingly, that Jesse realised what he had done. He promptly got off his friend, pacing backwards, horrified at his behaviour.

His hand hurt like a bitch. Had he fractured it? That wouldn't be a surprise, given how messed up Badger looked. Badger rolled over, coughing up blood. He stared at Jesse, shocked tears blooming in his purple fat-lidded eyes. Badger was a full foot taller than Jesse, and twice as heavy, but boy, did Jesse have at him.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jesse, what's wrong with you?" Badger whispered, blood and saliva dripping from his swollen lips.

Cradling his busted knuckles, Jesse stumbled out of the house shell-shocked. No doubt Jesse had been rendered homeless and penniless again, because God knows he was no longer welcome at Badger's.


	12. Ep 12 Sleepless in New Mexico

**Ep. 12 Sleepless in**** New Mexico**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… Skyler and Flynn have a heated argument about whether to sell his car to pay the bills, now that the Whites' finances and business have been confiscated. Skyler aces an interview for a book keeping job, until a secretary recognises her from the news, and calls her out on it. Jesse beats Badger senseless, after Badger demands Jesse cook Heisenberg Blue for him. Horrified at what he's done, Jesse takes off, becoming a homeless runaway, once more.

* * *

><p><strong><span>2012<span>**

When Skyler arrived home from yet another failed job hunt, she was greeted by the presence of not only the usual crew of news reporters and nosy bystanders, but with a pair of police officers, loitering at her house. Feeling a knot of dread in the pit of her stomach, she wandered up to the house.

"What are you doing at my house?"

"Ma'am, are you Mrs Skyler White?" an officer asked.

"I go by Skyler Lambert now, but yes." The Officer pulled out a document, holding it in front of Skyler's face.

"What is this?" Skyler asked weakly.

"An Eviction Notice, and Property Seizure Order issued by the District Court," the Officer replied.

"This doesn't make any sense. We bought this house when Walt was just a teacher, long before all these… these allegations against him," Skyler struggled.

"Ma'am, we would advise you to consult a lawyer and file an application of appeal, if you wish to contest the Order. But for now, you need to pack your things and go. We'll call a moving van for you, on the government's expense," the Officer stated.

Skyler shook her head vigorously, tears springing to her eyes. "No, no, this must be a mistake! It was paid for legitimately with Walt's high school salary! You have to understand!"

"Ms Lambert, with all due respect, we must insist you pack up and leave, else we retain the right to physically remove you ourselves," the Officer instructed.

"But what about my kids? Where are we supposed to go? Where are they supposed to live?!" Skyler exclaimed.

"I understand your sister is looking after your daughter at the moment?" the Officer enquired.

"Wh-What, are you spying on her, or something?!" Skyler choked out.

"Purely precautionary. We don't want her coming to harm at the hands of your husband or his associates, in light of her recent kidnap."

"Look, Officer, please. My sister's happy to babysit Holly and have Flynn over, but me? She detests me. I have nowhere to go, no money, no business, and now you're telling me, no home as well?!" Skyler spluttered.

"I'm sorry, Ms Lambert, I really am. But I'm just following court orders, here. Your son, is he at school at the moment?" the Officer asked. Skyler nodded mutely. "Well, I suggest you call him at school and inform him of your new living arrangements."

"_What_ new living arrangements?! There are no new living arrangements!" Skyler yelled.

"Ma'am, please. Call your son and clear out your belongings, immediately. I must insist."

* * *

><p><strong><span>2013 <span>**

Jesse made a pit-stop at a mini-mart, using his stolen cash to buy bandages and an ice pack for his swollen knuckles; a toothbrush, toothpaste and a hand towel. He stopped over at a public restroom. He cleaned his teeth, wet the towel under tap water, and proceeded to wipe himself down with it.

With basic hygiene out of the way, Jesse had an entire night, the first of what would be many, to drive around Albuquerque aimlessly, till his warning lights indicated a near-empty gas tank. At a loss as to where to go, or what to do, Jesse pulled up into the nearest parking lot.

It was 2 am, with a half moon and a clear sky. Jesse turned off the engine and climbed into the back seat of his car. Pulling the hood of his jacket over his head, he lay back on the seat, allowing himself to drift off into a restless fitful sleep.

…

Today heralded the 28th day of Jesse's homeless car-dwelling misery. Jesse heard a gentle knock on his window. Frightened, he sat bolt upright, instantly awake. Squinting against the morning sunlight filtering into his car, he recognised the person outside. He unwound the window, nodding at a sickly rail-thin woman in a frayed leopard-print mini dress.

"BJ is $50, vag is $80, anal is $100. Throw in an extra $40 if you want it without a rubber," the woman muttered, absentmindedly scratching a weeping meth sore on her chin.

"Wendy, it's me," Jesse said.

"Jesse? Ohh Jesse! Just the man I've been dying to see, how goes?!" Wendy greeted exuberantly.

"Good, can't complain," Jesse lied. Wendy leaned in, hunger and desperation glittering in her eyes.

"Look, Jesse. We can do the usual, how 'bout it? You don't pay me a cent, you just trade me some of that blue crystal. You can stay the whole night, I'll do whatever you want, just name it," Wendy breathed.

"I don't have any to give you," Jesse said flatly. _Here we go again. People bugging me about the fucking Heisenberg Blue._

Wendy shook her head, unconvinced. "Naw, sure you do. Word's on the street you been cooking blue since Heisenberg kicked it. C'mon, I know you're a big shot now, but I'll make it worth your while, really!"

"Seriously. I don't have anything to give. I'm broke. Why else do you think you I'm living in my car?"

"Naw, no way, everyone's sayin' you're the new cook in town, c'mon now," Wendy coaxed.

Jesse slammed the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, in frustration. Wendy jumped up, startled. "Why does everyone say the same fucking thing about me and that fucking blue meth?! Is that all I'm known for? Being Heisenberg's bitch?!" he spat.

Wendy leaned against the car, a hand on her bony hip, head cocked ruefully to the side. "I for one would _love_ to be Heisenberg's bitch. Imagine having access to all that crystal..."

"Fuck you people and your admiration for that asshole! You have no idea what a sick twisted son of a bitch, he was! He poisoned a kid, did you know that? A kid!" Jesse rambled.

Wendy shrugged nonchalantly. "Dunno what you want me to say, Jesse. I just want me some blue."

"Don't you get it?! Doesn't anyone get it? Mr White's the most fucked up... He's the devil!" Jesse exclaimed deliriously.

"What do you care? Aren't we all?" Wendy frowned.

"I'm just saying, I wish people would stop asking me to give them something I don't have! I don't have any crystal to give! I'm just a broke-ass ex-con, okay?!"

Wendy's eyes filmed over. "Fine. You ain't got no Sky, you ain't got no money, so you ain't got no use to me," she grumbled, tottering off in her vinyl red pumps.

"Wait!" Jesse called out impulsively.

"So, you _do _have some Heisenberg for me," Wendy grinned. "I thought as much."

Jesse shook his head, "Err... no."

"Would you quit wasting my time then, you lil' shit?!" Wendy scowled. "I gots to find me some real customers!"

"No wait, just hear me out," Jesse said desperately. He could not bear another night living alone in a cramped car in the middle of a parking lot. The depravity and loneliness was killing him.

"Oh fuck off, already!" Wendy yelled.

"You've got a kid, right?" Jesse asked suddenly.

"Yeah, so?"

"And you just leave him home alone when you're out working?"

"Well I don't got no choice, do I? You think money grow on trees?! I don't work, he don't eat!" Wendy bristled.

"Alright, alright, chill," Jesse replied.

"You call me a bad mother, then ask me to chill?!" Wendy argued hotly. "You think I want this? Leaving my baby alone? I got no choice! None!"

"What if I told you I could look after your kid for you, while you worked? All you'd have to do is let me crash, and I'll feed him, look after him, whatever," Jesse suggested.

Wendy squinted at Jesse. "You good with kids?"

"Yeah, great, I'm awesome with them."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, once, I was off visiting a couple of meth heads who stole from me, trying to get them to pay up, and they had this little red-headed kid. He was dirty, scruffy, real sad-looking, all filthy and shit. I looked after him a while. Felt bad for him, y'know? He didn't deserve it, growing up in that shithole," Jesse lamented.

Wendy shrugged. "Fine, Mary Poppins, you got yourself a deal."


	13. Ep 13 Uninvited

**Ep. 13 Uninvited**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… Skyler arrives home to find the Feds at her door, ready to evict her and the children. Her desperate pleas prove useless in the face of a Court Order. Jesse spends a month living in his car. He bumps into Wendy, a meth-addicted streetwalker, and offers to babysit her child in exchange for free room and board.

* * *

><p><span>2012 <span>

Pushing Holly in a stroller, Marie wandered aimlessly around an antique store, eyeing the goods on display. She paused in front of the mineral collection, her fingers brushing against the cool coloured stones. An elderly store clerk in a sweater vest strolled over to her.

"That's a beautiful daughter, you have there," the clerk smiled, waving at Holly. Holly waved back, giggling affably.

"I know, isn't she just? Her name is… Evangeline. She isn't technically my daughter, not yet, anyway. Her mother, bless her soul, is appallingly abusive and incompetent, so recently, a Court of Law ordered that I be granted full custody over Evangeline, and her big brother… Augustus," Marie invented.

"Er… Okay, then," the clerk replied, feeling this to be a weird _too-much-information _moment. "So um, anything I can help you with, today Ma'am?"

"I'm looking for a number of unique minerals to add to my husband's collection," Marie explained.

"Ah, a mineral-collector, a fine hobby indeed," the clerk smiled.

"Oh no, it's more than a hobby, it's his career. He's an artisan, you see. He crafts one-of-a-kind jewellery out of strictly the finest most exotic of materials," lied Marie.

The clerk's face lit up. "Oh my, well now, we have a wide selection of stones for you to choose from. We sell only the most superior precious stones; it would serve your husband's business well."

Marie held out her hand, showing the clerk her wedding ring. "My husband crafted my wedding ring by hand. It is his finest piece. An honest labour of love."

The clerk squinted at the ring, scrutinising it closely. "My goodness, this is fine workmanship. Your husband is an excellent artisan."

"Isn't he just? You should see his other pieces too. Intricate designs, all of them handmade. He's sold his pieces worldwide. His usual clientele include the princes of the United Arab Emirates, the Queen of England, the First Lady, just to name a few."

"I see," said the clerk.

"You know, other men yearn for adventure, they're all about the thrill of danger. Firemen, soldiers, police officers, you name it, I guarantee you there's a woman married to one. But not my husband, no, he's always been an indoor kind of guy."

"Mm Hm," said the clerk.

"He's never been one for adventure. He prefers staying in, working on his pieces, from the safety of home. This situation works perfectly for the both of us. He's always home, so I never have to worry about him. I never have to lie awake at night fearing the worst, panicking that some hardened drug lord has hurt him, worrying that he'll go missing in the blink of an eye, fearing that he's lying dead in a ditch somewhere out there in the dessert, murdered at the hands of some hardened criminal you once thought was your family," Marie rambled.

"Ma'am, are we… I don't – I don't quite follow."

Marie picked up a stone, handing it to the clerk. "My husband is very selective about the quality of the minerals he works with, so I'll need to examine this one closely under a magnifying glass to determine if it's worthy. I assume you have a magnifying glass?"

"Uh yes, yes we do. I won't be a moment," said the shopkeeper, disappearing into the storeroom.

Marie shoved a handful of rocks into her pocket. The shopkeeper returned with a magnifying glass. "Here you go Ma'am."

Marie bent over the counter, holding the magnifying glass up to her eye. She pretended to scrutinise the stone, before sighing theatrically.

"This mineral has a number of chinks in it, which makes it of an unacceptable quality for my husband's artisan pieces."

The shopkeeper shook his head, frowning. "No Ma'am, this is an excellent piece of Obsidian."

"It most certainly is not. Not for my husband's high society clients, at least. Well then, good day to you," Marie said, hurrying out of the store with little Holly in tow.

Marie drove home, with one hand on the steering wheel and the other in her pocket, clutching tightly to the stolen rocks, as if they would, like Hank, disappear into thin air, if she let them go.

Feeling hollow and defeated, Marie pulled into the driveway, sighing deeply. Climbing out of the car, she unstrapped Holly, and sat her on her hip. As she turned to face her house, she gasped with shock, at the huge pile of bags, suitcases and boxes on her doorstep. Beside the luggage, sat her sister, unkempt and forlorn. At least the bitch looked as miserable as Marie felt.

"Skyler, what are you doing here?" Marie demanded. "Why are there boxes piled up in front of my house?"

"I was hoping I could move in," Skyler admitted. Marie cradled Holly against her, scowling at Skyler.

"I agreed to babysit the kids provided you keep your distance from me," Marie huffed.

"I know, I know, but look, before you throw me off your property, just hear me out. The government seized my house."

Marie smiled cynically. "Nothing's paid with honest money. Not even your house."

"No it's – it's not that simple, most of it was paid for with Walt's salary," Skyler struggled.

"_Most of it. _That's rich," Marie snorted. "If they've taken your house, I'm sure they've had good reason to."

Skyler threw her hands up in the air. "Ok, fine, yes, maybe you're right, but I'm here now, as your sister, asking for your help!"

"Huh," said Marie, arms folded across her chest.

"Look, I really… the kids and I, we have nowhere else to go, Marie."

Marie rolled her eyes, muttering profanities under her breath. Storming into her house, she waved at her sofa. "You'll sleep on the couch. Holly will sleep in my room, Flynn in Hank's."

"Thank you," Skyler breathed, dragging her luggage into the house.

"I assume Flynn knows to come here after school?"

"I've called him, he knows. Whether he'll accept it, is another story."

Marie shrugged cynically. "He's had to accept his father is a drug lord, his mother a liar. I suspect he'll get used to this too."

Skyler cringed at Marie's words. "Marie, I know you don't want to hear this, but-"

"You're right," Marie interrupted. "I don't."

"I'm so sorry, I really, I cannot begin to tell you… how sorry I am," Skyler whispered.

"Sorry you got caught," said Marie, placing Holly into the playpen. She pulled out a pile of precious stones, stolen in Hank's memory, and began arranging them in a row on her mantlepiece.

Skyler raised her eyebrows. "Marie, what are those? Did you..."

Marie pointed one finger at Skyler. "Don't you dare lecture me on theft. After what you've done. Just stay out of my way."

"You're right, ok... Just, how long are you going to punish me for this? Aren't I being punished enough as it is? I've lost my husband, my business, my money, my house… and now, it seems I've lost my sister too."

"And you want what from me, exactly? My understanding? Sympathy? No, you made your bed. You go lie in it," said Marie coldly.

"What would you have me do? Just please, tell me, and I'll do it. Believe me, I wish, every single day of my fucking life, I wish! I wish I could take it back, start over, bring your husband home, but I can't!" Skyler yelped. Peering out of her playpen, Holly whimpered at her mother's raised voice.

"Keep your voice down, you're scaring Holly. I can't have this conversation, right now."

"Marie, please…"

"If you're all living here on a full time basis now, Holly needs a crib. Where is it? I'll assemble it," Marie snapped.

"Third box to the left," Skyler sighed. Marie stalked out of the house, dragging in a heavy box. Skyler turned her eyes downwards, guilty and ashamed.

"Marie, when you're ready to talk about us…"

Marie glared at her sister. "There is no _us _anymore. There is only me, my niece and my nephew. I will always do right by them because I love them, and that's not gonna change. But as for us?" Marie shook her head. "No, you ended us. You ended us the moment you chose to value that asshole's secrets over my husband's life."

A/N: please review! :D


	14. Ep 14 My Baby Blue

**Ep. 14 My Baby Blue**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… With baby Holly in tow, Marie raids an antique store, stealing a pile of minerals, in Hank's honour. She arrives home to find a homeless Skyler on her doorstep. Angrily and reluctantly, she allows the Whites to move into her house, on account of her continued love for her blameless niece and nephew.

* * *

><p><strong><span>2013<span>**

Wendy lay on a filthy dingy mattress, inhaling on her bong, savouring her pre-work morning hit. It wasn't Blue Sky, by any stretch. It was a cloudy murky grey, like soured milk. A 45%, at best. Nonetheless, something was always better than nothing, for a meth-head.

Rolling off the mattress, Wendy pulled on her usual uniform. Lycra miniskirt, garish red boob-tube and black knee-high vinyl boots, finished with a smear of cheap lipstick and mascara. She stared at Jesse and her scrawny unwashed seven year-old son sourly.

Yes, sure, it was nice to have an adult babysit her child while she worked the streets, but truth be told, her bigger motivation for housing Jesse, was to hopefully ply and persuade him into cooking her some Sky. She toyed with the idea that perhaps he could even be her personal chef, in exchange for free lodging.

"Oi, Kid," Wendy barked.

Wendy's son glanced up, "Yes, Ma?"

"No, not you, Jesse! Y'know, I accept this arrangement. It's fine, great, but you sure we can't… I dunno, come to a new agreement? Can't you just cook me some crystal? Why won't you?"

"I was Heisenberg's assistant. That's all I was, I can't cook that shit on my own," Jesse lied, seething quietly.

_Keep your temper under wraps. She's a woman. You can't beat up on a woman, _he instructed himself.

"Bullshit! I know you can. Those pals of yours, Skinny and Badger, they say Heisenberg told them he stopped cooking long before he dropped dead, and yet that Blue was still on the market. So you know how to, you just don't want to. What I want to know is why!" Wendy argued feverishly.

Jesse stood up abruptly, forcing himself not to cave Wendy's face in. Why did everyone have to be on his case about cooking? After months of slaving away for the White Supremacists, there was nothing Jesse found more detestable (no scratch that, traumatising), than cooking Sky.

Jesse slung a huge black duffle bag over his shoulder. It was the same bag that once housed the millions earned from his days cooking with Mr White. He stalked out the door.

"Whoa, hey, kid! Where you going?!" Wendy rushed after Jesse.

"All this Heisenberg Blue bullshit! This wasn't part of the deal," Jesse snapped.

Wendy threw her hands in the air, "Well, alright, boy, relax. You can babysit my kid, we'll keep the arrangements same as usual."

Jesse glared at Wendy fiercely. "You used to call me Jesse. Not kid, not boy!"

Wendy shrugged. "Back then you were a paying client, paying in the bestest ice I ever had. But now, I mean c'mon, babysitting? You gotta know that's a trade-down."

Jesse stared pointedly at Wendy. "Looking after your kid is a trade down from feeding your habit? That's what you think of your kid?"

Wendy waved him off, hurrying away. "You know what? I don't have time for your bitching. If I don't put in a full 16 hour shift, I lose out on the ice. You can stay, you can go, suit yourself."

Jesse stood outside Wendy's door, wondering if he should take off. Where would he go? Back to his car, he supposed. For Jesse had only one skill. A skill that would make him a millionaire, if he were only not too traumatised to use it. Jesse felt a little hand tug at his shirt.

"Jesse, please don't go… Can't you stay?" the tiny boy asked.

"Of course I can, little man," Jesse said, stepping back inside the house. "You got a name?"

"Terrence Francis Blay," the boy replied.

"That's a long name," Jesse smiled. It occurred to him, that long before the meth, this boy must've been loved dearly to be given such a longwinded name.

"So, T-dawg, you hungry?" Jesse asked affably. "I can call you T-dawg, right?"

The boy nodded. Jesse opened the fridge, which was not only broken and warm, but contained nothing but a six pack and mouldy bread.

"Well, there's nothing in here, we'll have to go buy something. But first, you got any clean clothes?" Jesse asked. The boy shook his head mutely. Jesse rifled through the wardrobe. There were an array of hookers outfits, but only two sets of shabby torn children's clothes. Jesse picked one set out.

"Well, beggars can't be choosers. Come on, let's get you cleaned up. You must've been wearing these clothes for weeks, at least," Jesse muttered, noting the stench of the poor child.

Jesse turned on the water, which came out of the showerhead in short murky rusty bursts. He picked up a dried up, shrunken shard of soap, and turned the heater on, but the water would not heat. "Sorry, little man. It's gonna have to be a cold shower."

Jesse showered and dressed the boy. He even combed the child's hair. "Show me your teeth, kid."

The boy bared his teeth, and Jesse cringed at the rows of decay. "Wow, damn. You could almost compete with your Ma, with those teeth. Let's throw in a toothbrush and toothpaste on the shopping list."

Jesse offered his hand. "Wanna come with?"

The child took Jesse's hand. Jesse drove to Walmart, using the last of his stolen gas station money to stock the fridge and buy necessities for the kid: Toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, shampoo, clothing and shoes.

When Jesse got back to Wendy's, he filled her fridge and shelves with cartons of milk, apple juice, white bread, tinned tuna, instant macaroni, fresh apples, oranges and bananas. He dressed Terrence in new clothes, tossing out his old ones. Then he made two bowls of instant mac and cheese, and poured apple juice into a cup.

"C'mon, kid. Eat up," Jesse waved Terrence over. Terrence peered over the plastic fold-out table, curiously. "What's that?"

Jesse stared at Terrence, surprised. "You've never had mac and cheese?"

"What's mac and cheese?" the little boy asked earnestly.

"Damn, kid, what does your Ma feed you?" Jesse asked, shaking his head. Terrence climbed onto a chair, staring at his meal.

"Okay, so you've tried apple juice before, right?" Jesse asked.

Terrence giggled. "Of course I have, silly!"

"Right on, right on," Jesse laughed. "Go on, eat up, yo. You'll like it, promise."

Terrence prodded his cheesy mac, gingerly nibbling a little of it. The moment he tasted it, he began shovelling huge mouthfuls of it into his mouth, as any child starved for nutrition would.

"Good stuff, huh?" Jesse laughed. Terrence nodded, cheese dripping down his chin. Jesse popped a bottle of beer open against the edge of the kitchen table.

"What's that? Can I have some?" Terrence mumbled between a mouthful of food.

"It's beer, and no. That's only for grownups," Jesse stated, drinking up.

"Oh, so it's like meth?" Terrence questioned. Jesse shuddered at the thought of such a small boy knowing of a thing as meth.

Jesse cocked his head to the side, "Well… I wouldn't say that."

"Ma says I can't have meth cuz it's for grownups," Terrence announced, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"Then in that case, sure, I guess beer is like meth," Jesse said.

The pair ate in silence. Jesse watched Terrence, letting his thoughts wander to the small redheaded boy he found neglected and alone, when he'd gone to collect his dues from the meth heads who stole from Skinny, two years ago.

The kid would be in foster care now. Come to think of it, so would Brock. This boy, Terrence, reminded Jesse so much of that small ginger boy, it hurt. How many young lives had Jesse's meth cooking destroyed? Including Andrea's little brother, and Drew Sharpe, three.

Terrence pushed his plate aside, burping with contentment. Jesse smiled at him, "Still hungry, T-Dawg?"

"Nah," Terrence yawned, rubbing his eyes.

"Tired?" Jesse asked. Terrence nodded.

"Let's get you ready for bed, then." Jesse said, directing Terrence to the bathroom. "You ever brush your teeth, little man?"

"Ma used to, before she started using meth," Terrence said matter-of-factly.

"Damn," Jesse whispered. "Well, you brush twice a day, once in the morning, once at night. Got it?"

Terrence nodded. Jesse squeezed toothpaste onto his toothbrush. "C'mon, I'll show you how it's done, and you can copy me."

Terrence watched curiously, copying Jesse. "Right on, little man! Y'know, brushing keeps your teeth shiny and white, yo."

Terrence giggled, brushing his teeth vigorously. From a distance, Wendy, who had just come home from an arduous 16 hours of streetwalking, stood at the door, watching Jesse care for her tiny son.

Terrence looked like an entirely different person. Sure, it was his clean new clothing, his combed hair, clean skin, brushed teeth, but more than that, it was his facial expression, his body language. Wendy's previously dull and withdrawn child now looked vibrant and happy.

"Jesse, you've done good," Wendy admitted. "I hope you'll stay."

"Right on," Jesse smiled.


	15. Ep 15 All for One

**Ep. 15 All for One**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… Jesse, placed in charge of caring for a little boy while his mother Wendy walks the streets, goes above and beyond his call of duty, bringing sunshine into one child's otherwise miserable life.

* * *

><p><strong>2012<strong>

Flynn sat at the internet café, browsing through websites featuring various fascinating car modifications. Aerodynamic tails, lightweight titanium wheels, extra-wide ultra-grip tyres, the whole shebang. A teenage girl jogged over to Flynn, grabbing his crutches, and running away with them.

"Hey! Wh-What are you doing?!" Flynn yelled.

"Catch me if you can, Spastic!" the girl sang. Her friends burst into obnoxious laughter.

Flynn felt waves of anger surge through him. He wanted nothing more than to grab the girl by her ponytail, and swing her around the room. Instinctively, he stood up, making a grab for her. His legs immediately gave out, and he fell, face first, onto the floor. Rows of faces turned to stare, but no one stepped in to help him.

"Ohh face-plant, cripple!" the girl laughed.

Flynn took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He was so furious and humiliated, he was shaking. Grasping a plastic chair, Flynn hauled himself onto the seat, panting with the effort.

"G-G-Give them back to me," he seethed.

"And if I don't, what are you gonna do about it? Stutter at me?" the girl challenged, waving Flynn's crutches about.

"Do y-y-you know who I am?" Flynn demanded, impulsively.

"Err… a spazz?" the girl retorted, sending her friends into fits of giggles.

"I'm H-Heisenberg's son," Flynn announced, his heart rate quickening.

The girls fell silent, glancing fretfully at each other. "Wait, isn't that… Oh my God, isn't that the guy from the news? The meth head murderer?"

Flynn nodded coolly, feeling he was suddenly gaining the upper hand in this situation. "Yeah, h-he is. My dad killed t-t-ten guys in prison and blew up a nursing home."

"Shit," the girl muttered, fiddling nervously with Flynn's crutches. Her friends fell into stunned silence.

"He's h-hiding from the police now, but he's got contacts. He can order a h-h-hitman, if I ask him to," Flynn threatened.

The girl's friend shoved her forwards, whispering urgently. "Quick, give it back to him. Say you're sorry."

The girl approached Flynn cautiously, like one would a rabid dog. She held the crutches out to him, and he snatched them from her. "I'm… sorry," she muttered.

Flynn eyed the group icily. "Any of you f-f-fuck with me again, and I'll- I'll tell my dad. He'll get one of his cronies to p-pistol whip your ass."

_Pistol whip your ass… That phrase he had learned from his new crew of remedial math Heisenberg-worshipping buddies. _

Faces pale, the girls scurried out of the internet café, quaking in their designer mini-skirts and T-Bar shoes.

…

Flynn lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt lost, confused, lonely and angry. The only comfort he could find was in the soft snores of his baby sister, sleeping in the crib beside him. What he wouldn't give to live a day in her blissfully ignorant shoes.

He replayed the day's events in his head. He had never said it before, "_I am Heisenberg's Son._" He felt guilty, dirty, awful for milking such a terrible truth, but he reminded himself, it was only out of necessity. It was an act of self-defence! What else was a stuttering boy on crutches to do?

Flynn sighed deeply when he heard the muffled sounds of his mother and aunt quarrelling. It seemed these days, it was always loved ones pitted against loved ones. First his father murdering his uncle, and now this. His mother and aunt tearing into each other. He strained his ears, eavesdropping on them.

"If you're going to stay here, you're going to need to earn your keep," Marie snapped, angrily rearranging her lavender cushions.

"Marie, I'm trying, I'm trying really hard, but everyone knows who I am, everyone knows I'm Walt's wife, and they won't give me a chance," Skyler answered tersely.

"All you keep searching for are book keeping and management roles. Who exactly do you think will trust you with their money, with their business?! After Benneke? After the A1 Carwash? Give me a fucking break," Marie shot back.

"I _have_ widened the scope of jobs, Marie. I'm looking for anything and everything possible. Cleaning jobs, handing out flyers, hell I've tried anything and everything short of whoring myself out!" Skyler huffed.

"Keep your voice down! Do you want to wake the kids?" Marie snapped.

"Look, Marie. Yesterday alone, I sent out sixty applications for babysitting jobs. Sixty!"

"Right, like anyone will trust a money laundering, tax-evading, criminal-harbouring fraud with their children," Marie scoffed.

Skyler closer her eyes, stung by her sister's words. She bit her lips to keep her temper from flaring.

"Marie, honest to God, I swear to you. I am searching high and low for a job, you have no idea how difficult-"

"You want to talk to me about _difficult_? You seriously want to go there? Try having your husband kidnapped, tortured, murdered or God knows what, by your brother-in-law. Then try finding out your sister knew about his fucked up activities long before your husband nearly lost his life to these assholes!" Marie yelled, her voice rising to a crescendo. Skyler's eyes began to water.

"Marie, believe me, I wish every day. Every day of my life I wish I could take it back. I should have told you, I know that, and words can't begin to describe how fucking sorry I am," Skyler said tearily. "Please, I don't know what else to say, what else to do…"

"Then admit it," Marie challenged. "If you genuinely want me to believe you're sorry, then put your money where your mouth is, turn yourself into the police and admit the full extent of your involvement in Walt's crimes."

"Marie, I don't see how doing that can possibly help," Skyler replied evasively.

"You don't see how it can help?! You don't see how being honest… can help?!" Marie choked out.

"You tell me? How does putting the only parent my children have left in prison helpful, Marie?" Skyler demanded.

"I'd take them in. You know as well as I do, I'd give them an infinitely safer, more stable, more _moral _home than you and Walt ever could. In any case, with parents like the two of you, who needs enemies?" Marie seethed, pacing around the living room.

Skyler shook her head, "You know I can't let you do that."

"Of course not. You'd rather they be raised by wolves than receive a loving home. That's the kind of selfish monster you are," Marie said. "God, it's like I don't even know you. Ever since Hank found out about Walt, I've been wondering, where is my sister? Where is she? Who is this disgusting lying stranger I don't even recognise?"

"I'm still here, Marie, I'm still me," Skyler whispered.

Marie stifled a bitter laugh. "You're not, you're a ghost of the sister I once knew. All your lies and deceit, scrambling desperately behind the coattails of some crooked two-bit lawyer. I know what kind of games you play, and it makes me sick."

"I'm not playing at anything. I'm just trying to hold the pieces of this… this mess, this disaster together," Skyler insisted.

"You think I've forgotten that disgusting little film you made with Walt? The one where he cooked up a crock of shit about Hank being the one who's running the drug empire? I still remember it like it was yesterday. That day at the Mexican restaurant. You, sitting with that son of a bitch, watching him, supporting him as he shoved that fucking blackmail DVD in our faces," Marie spat.

"It was the only way, Marie. The only way we could… protect ourselves, without jeopardising Hank's safety," Skyler struggled.

Marie leaned in closely. "And by jeopardising Hank's safety, you mean Walt slaughtering him! You disgusting, unrepentant bitch!"

"I don't know what you want me to say, Marie. I never asked for this, never condoned any of it, but somehow, some way, I found myself caught… caught on this-this rollercoaster I can't get off of. When I found out, Walt was already in too deep, there wasn't anything I could do but… but to keep my mouth shut," Skyler rambled.

"You expect me to believe that your involvement in Walt's crimes begins and ends at mere knowledge? You really expect me to believe that?" Marie demanded.

"Yes, because it's the truth! My only crime is staying silent," Skyler answered.

Marie laughed bitterly. "You must think I'm an idiot. You invent a fancy story about Walt winning a pile of greens through gambling. So much for staying silent! Then you suddenly, without a moment's hesitation, buy a carwash. How arbitrary can you be? In hindsight, knowing what I know now, it's obvious you're laundering his money."

"Marie, all this is purely your own conjecture, an invention," Skyler insisted.

At that very moment, the phone rang, putting a halt to the sisters' verbal sparring match. Marie snatched up the phone. "What?!" she snapped.

"Hello, is Ms Skyler Lambert, there?"

"Hold on," Marie said, smiling sourly. She passed the phone to Skyler. "So, you're Ms _Lambert_ now, are you? Shitting on our maiden name now, are we?"

"Hello? Speaking," Skyler answered.

"Ms Lambert, you applied to be a taxi dispatcher two months ago. We have an opening. Nightshifts only, starting this Wednesday at 1 am."

"Great, see you then," Skyler replied, hanging up. She turned to Marie. "I just got a job as a cab dispatcher."

"About time," Marie retorted.

Skyler sighed heavily, her patience wearing thin. "Look, just give me till the end of this week to rent a place, then the kids and I will be out of your hair."

"The kids aren't the problem here, you are." Marie replied.

"Well, Marie, I hate to disappoint you, but the kids and I are one in the same. We come as a package, so if you continue to have a problem with me, no matter how many times I try to apologise, then you have a problem with my kids too, because wherever I go, they go."


	16. Ep 16 Sweet Ride

**Ep. 16 Sweet Ride**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… Flynn suffers a guilty conscience after threatening a group of bullies by declaring who his father is. Meanwhile, Skyler finally finds employment as a taxi dispatcher. Marie and Skyler launch into a heated quarrel, ending with Skyler vowing to move out of Marie's house.

* * *

><p><strong>2012<strong>

"No! I told you over and o-over, you are n-n-not selling my car! You can't just give me a birthday present, then sell it away!" Flynn yelled, standing in front of his car, protectively.

"Flynn, we need a safety net for rent, if we're to move out of Aunt Marie's," Skyler reasoned.

"Wh-Why? Does Aunt Mare wanna kick me out? She doesn't l-l-love me and Holly anymore?!" Flynn demanded.

Skyler shook her head, "No, sweetheart, of course not. Your aunt loves you both very much."

"Then I'm not moving! I'm st-staying right here with Aunt Mare! If you wanna go, th-then go! But you can't sell my car for _your _rent!" Flynn insisted.

"This isn't a negotiation, this is an order. As your mother I retain the legal right to decide where you and your sister will live, and I insist that you both live with me," Skyler warned. "Now please, move out of the way, so I can take your car to the Second-hand Dealer."

"I-I hid the keys! A-And I'm not telling you where they are," Flynn said impulsively.

"God, Flynn. Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making my life so difficult?" Skyler groaned.

"Be-Because _you _made my life difficult! You l-lied to me ab-bout dad, and you're just as bad as him! Because of y-y-your lying, the police stole our house, our carwash and our m-money!" Flynn yelled.

Skyler's face fell. "Don't you think I'm being punished enough for my actions, as it is? I'm trying so hard to hold this family together. Please, I need you to just help me. Will you do that for me? For this family?"

"_For th-this family?!_ Now y-y-you sound exactly like dad!" Flynn yelled.

"Flynn, that's enough! You will tell me where the car keys are this instance, or so help me God," Skyler seethed.

"If you want me to say wh-where's the keys, th-then you have to say the truth about everything bad you've done! Cuz you always say honesty is a t-t-two way street!" Flynn demanded.

"Flynn, there is nothing to tell, I've already told the police everything I-"

"That's bullshit! Th-That's such… such t-t-total bullshit! You're lying again!" Flynn interrupted.

"Why? Why would you say that?" Skyler demanded.

"I heard you and Aunt M-Mare talking last night. She said you were money l-l-laundering dad's money!" Flynn accused.

"Honey, that was a conversation between adults. Do you even know what money laundering is? I can assure you, Marie was completely mistaken about-"

"Stop it!" Flynn yelled. "Just st-stop! Maybe I don't know what's money laundering, m-m-maybe I'm not as smart as you, but-"

"That is not what meant," Skyler interrupted firmly.

"Yes it is! Y-Y-You're saying I'm dumb, like I d-don't understand what's money laundering! Well, so what?! I just know that it's something criminals do, a-and Aunty Mare thinks you did it!" Flynn shrieked.

"Flynn, please, there are two sides to every story," Skyler pleaded.

"No! There's just one story! It's that y-y-you're a liar, and Aunt Mare's not! I'm g-gonna believe what she says, rather th-than you!" Flynn huffed. "Because all you do is treat me like a dumb baby every d-day."

Skyler paced around the garage, her temper rising. "Alright, you want me to treat you like an adult? You want the truth? Well, here it is. The police have confiscated our money, our carwash, our family home, and now, they're going to confiscate our belongings. The police believe that everything we own was purchased with drug money, so if you refuse to sell your car, they'll simply confiscate it from you."

"So y-you mean, if we sell it and pay our r-r-rent, then… then they won't know about the money, so they can't take it a-away from us?" Flynn asked.

"That's right, Son." Skyler replied, surprised that he had caught on. Sometimes he was smarter than his parents gave him credit for.

"If-If that's why you wanna sell my car, th-then that's cheating the police, and th-that's breaking the law! You can't break the law!" Flynn argued.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Skyler groaned with exasperation.

"And you're not s-s-supposed to say the 'F' word!" Flynn accused.

Skyler threw her hands up in the air, "Okay, fine, you're right! Jesus."

"Mom, d-don't you even know what's right a-a-and wrong?! Aren't you meant to be the mom, and I'm the kid? H-How come you're gonna break the law by hiding m-my car from the police?" Flynn demanded.

Skyler approached Flynn, cupping his face in her hands. "Flynn, honey, listen to me. As you get older and face the challenges of being an adult, you'll learn that things aren't always so black and white. Doing the right thing isn't always so straightforward."

"I just… I just w-wanna know why we even have to move out?" Flynn asked, crestfallen.

"Well, you heard your aunt last night. She's mad at me, understandably. She misses Uncle Hank, and I want to give her space, she deserves that much. I need to sell your car for rent, so we can leave Marie in peace," Skyler explained.

"Do you th-think she'd feel b-better if we left?" Flynn asked quietly. Skyler nodded.

"Sometimes the biggest support we can give a loved one, is to leave them alone. Everyone needs their space sometimes," she said quietly. Flynn nodded soberly. Dipping his hand into his pocket, he dropped the keys into his mother's hands.

"They were in your pockets all along?" Skyler asked.

Flynn shrugged. "P-People don't think of looking in ob-obvious places."

Skyler smiled wryly. Yes, her son was certainly smarter than she gave him credit for.

…

Marie drove Skyler, Flynn and Holly to their new home. She cringed with guilt, when she saw the sparse cheap rundown motel that would now be her sister, niece and nephew's humble abode.

"Aw man, th-this place looks like shit," Flynn voiced.

"Oh it's not so bad. Might look horrid on the outside, but I'm sure it's fine inside," Skyler said tightly. Marie pulled up into the car park.

"Th-This place is all s-s-selling my car could pay for?" Flynn complained.

"Well, honey, your car was a second hand car to begin with, and we're talking about enough rent to hold us out until I start accumulating some decent paycheques," Skyler explained.

"Huh. S-Sucks balls," Flynn snorted.

"Watch your language," Skyler warned.

"Mama, Mama," Holly babbled, reaching out to Skyler. Flynn rolled his eyes.

"That's right, Holly! That's right, baby girl, I'm your Mama," Skyler cooed, unbuckling Holly from her car seat.

"I'll help you guys unpack," Marie muttered guiltily, hauling a box to Skyler's front door.

Skyler unlocked the door, and the family stepped inside. The motel room was dark, dingy and musty. It had a film of dust covering its floor and walls. The floor was lined with cheap linoleum, and the walls were carelessly painted. There was only one tiny bathroom with a mouldy shower, and a single bedroom for the entire family to share.

"Gross," Flynn scowled.

"Um… this isn't too bad. Y'know, a fixer upper," Skyler said tensely.

"Yeah right," Flynn snorted. "It looks like wh-where whores go to earn their keep."

"Flynn, if it's these new friends you're hanging out that are teaching you to speak this way, I highly disapprove," Skyler chided.

Flynn shrugged, "Whatevs, mom, y-y-you know it's true."

"Honestly, we just need to clean this place up, spruce it up with our personal belongings, then it'll improve vastly," Skyler said.

Marie nodded, "Your mother's right. It's a fixer upper. All we've got to do is unload the furniture, hang the family pictures up, and it'll feel like home."

Skyler smiled at Marie gratefully. Marie reciprocated with a tense smile that looked more like a grimace. Marie clapped her hands.

"Alright then, let's get cracking, team. Flynn, you're in charge of unpacking these boxes here, and your mom and I, we'll handle the bags over here. The rest of the furniture will arrive shortly, just waiting for the moving van to haul ass," Marie stated.

Flynn prised open a box, pulling out a collection of framed water colour portraits of the White family. He began hanging the pictures, first Holly, then himself, then his mom. He stared at the last framed portrait sitting at the bottom of the box. A painting of his father.

"A-Are we… hanging dad's picture up?" Flynn asked uncertainly. Awaiting her reply, Marie caught Skyler's eyes, staring icily at her. Skyler paused, choosing her words carefully.

"No, no honey, of course not," Skyler muttered. "Your father doesn't feature in our lives anymore, you know that."


	17. Ep 17 Manny No More

**Ep. 17 Manny No More**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… Skyler and Flynn launch into a heated argument over whether to sell Flynn's car to pay the family bills. After Flynn finally relinquishes, Marie helps the Whites settle into their new home: a cramped rented motel room in a lousy neighbourhood.

* * *

><p><strong><span>2013<span>**

Leaning against the wall, outside her motel room, Wendy inhaled the last remnants of murky grey meth, before coming back inside the house. She eyed Jesse, as he stuck frozen pancakes into the microwave, punching the buttons. The microwave worked intermittently, breaking down every few minutes.

"Fucking piece of shit," Jesse muttered.

"I'm heading out to work soon. Gotta catch the pre-office crowd. They tip well," Wendy muttered.

"Sure, great. Terrence and I will hold the fort, won't we, buddy?" Jesse yawned, placing pancakes and cold milk in front of Terrence.

"There you go, just like how my folks used to make it. Well, not really, actually. Ma used to make them fresh. But whatevs, same difference, right?" Jesse said. Terrence dug happily into his breakfast.

"You're doing well with my boy," Wendy admitted.

Jesse shrugged. "Yeah well, he's a good kid."

"He looks clean, well fed... happy, even. I like this deal we've got going on," Wendy said, lighting up a cigarette.

"Hey, mind if you take that outside?" Jesse asked.

Wendy snorted. "You telling me I can't smoke in my own house?"

Jesse shrugged, "The kid doesn't need to be smoking that shit too."

Wendy shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"Hey, um, I was thinking, Terrence is seven now, right?" Jesse asked.

"Yeah," Wendy replied, exhaling.

"I started school when I was five," Jesse said.

"Good for you," Wendy sneered.

Jesse shook his head, "Yo, aren't you gonna send him to school?"

"What's the point? He's fine at home," Wendy shrugged.

"_What's the point? _How about, like, it gives him a shot of getting out of this shithole and making a life for himself?"

"You went to school. Didn't turn out any better than me," Wendy snapped.

"Yeah but that's me, not him. This kid could do better, but you gotta give him a chance," Jesse insisted.

"I don't need some kid of mine going to some stick-up-the-ass place. I got all the education I need from working the streets. In case you haven't realised, it's called Street Smarts for a reason," Wendy argued. Her head snapped up towards the window when she saw a car pull up in front of her motel room.

"You know what? I don't got time for this. There's a customer," Wendy sighed, stubbing out her cigarette, and scurrying off to work.

…

Jesse wandered along the corridors, holding Terrence's hand. His heart ached at the sight of pictures plastered along the walls. Children's drawings in crayon, water colour and poster paint. It all reminded him so much, too much of his childhood. He used to love drawing. Comic strips, specifically, when he was a schoolboy. A lump formed in his throat when images of Jane Margolis fluttered into his mind's eye. He could almost hear her voice, her flirtatious teasing through a curtain of long black hair, as she flicked through his sketch book, filled with images superheroes he'd concocted in his boyhood.

_"So that makes Kanga-man a she. You know that, right? Only female kangaroos have pouches..." _

Terrence shook Jesse's hand, breaking him out of his private reverie. The boy looked up at Jesse expectantly.

"You ready, little man?" Jesse asked. Terrence nodded. Jesse knocked on the Principal's door.

"Come in," the Principal called out. "I'm Eric Monahan, the Principal here, at Albuquerque State Primary School. Please, have a seat, both of you."

Jesse and Terrence sat down. Terrence tugged Jesse's hand anxiously. "It's alright, kid, you're alright."

Principal Monaghan smiled. "I take it, this is the young man?"

"Yeah," Jesse replied.

"Now, as I understand it, you're seeking to enroll your son in Grade One, here, is that right?"

"He's not actually my son; he's a friend's son. She's caught up at work right now, couldn't make it today," Jesse explained.

"Fair enough, we all have to make a living, haven't we? So, what's your name, young man?" the Principal asked. Terrence grabbed Jesse's arm, shrinking in his seat.

"It's okay, little man," Jesse reassured. "His name is Terrence Francis Blay."

"Right, and how old is he?" the Principal asked.

"Seven," Jesse answered.

Monaghan raised his eyebrows, "He's small, isn't he, for a seven year old? I assume you'll be enrolling him in Grade two?"

"Er… Grade one, actually. He hasn't actually been to school yet… ever," Jesse admitted.

The Principal frowned at Jesse. "And why not? Formal schooling begins at age six. It's the law."

Jesse twiddled his thumbs awkwardly. "Okay, see, here's the thing. His Ma, she's a single mom. She's got a lot on her plate. Not much time to think about stuff like schooling."

"I see. Low income family, I presume?" the Principal asked.

Jesse shrugged, "Yeah, I guess."

The Principal nodded, "That would explain why he seems so… small and withdrawn."

"But whatever, right? That's the past. He's here today, he can start school today," Jesse evaded.

The Principal scrutinised the boy closely, "This isn't one of those situations where we need to call Social Services, is it?"

"What? Nah he's fine, he's fine!" Jesse laughed nervously.

"Well he looks extremely withdrawn. But more alarmingly, he seems extremely malnourished and underweight. If I may, are there any concerns of abuse or neglect?"

"Nah man, he's fine! I'm looking after him now, right buddy?" Jesse said. Terrence nodded slightly, peering at the Principal from behind Jesse's arm.

"Now, if you don't mind my asking again, who are you exactly, to this boy?"

"A friend," Jesse evaded.

"Right, a friend. What does that mean, precisely? Are you his stepfather? His legal guardian?" the Principal questioned.

"I'm er... a lodger," Jesse muttered.

"I see. Terrence, does your mother know you're here with this man?" the Principal asked. Terrence shook his head. The Principal stared at Jesse questioningly. Jesse broke out into a cold sweat.

"Dude, like I said, his Ma's got a lot on her plate. I just thought the kid deserved to go to school. Yo, that's it," Jesse protested.

"What is your name, Sir?" the Principal asked.

"I'm just a friend of the family's," Jesse backtracked.

"Sir, I asked for your name," the Principal reiterated. Jesse refused to reply. The Principal turned to Terrence.

"Terrence, who is this man?" he asked.

Terrence replied meekly, "He's Jesse Pink-"

Jesse clapped Terrence's mouth with his hand. Jesse would be damned if Monaghan was going to hear his name. The last thing Jesse wanted was to return to police custody. Judging by the last time he turned himself in, and even collaborated with the DEA, he wound up kidnapped, beaten and enslaved. No, Jesse could rely on no one but himself, least of all, the police.

"Get your hands off the boy," the Principal gasped. Jesse released Terrence immediately, like the child were made of hot coals. Terrence started crying. Not the loud insolent wailing of privileged children, but the quiet subdued sobs of a perpetually deprived child. With both eyes glued on Jesse, the Principal dialed the phone.

"Hello, 911, what is your emergency?"

"I'd like to report a suspected case of child abuse, neglect, kidnapping. I don't know what to make of this. A man's come to the school I work at, seeking to enroll a child. I don't know, something about the child doesn't look right. He looks terrified and severely malnourished. The man he's with is being cagey about his relation to the child," the Principal explained.

Jesse stood up abruptly, stumbling out of the room. "Jesse? Where you going?!" Terrence cried, running after him. The Principal grasped the boy by his shirt.

"No, no, you stay here, son. You're safe now, that man isn't going to hurt you anymore, whoever he is," the Principal reassured.

"Sir, keep that boy close to you. What is your address?" the emergency dispatcher demanded.

"No! I want Jesse! I want Jesse! Give me Jesse!" Terrence screamed, as the Principal held onto him.

Jesse glanced at the little boy, one last time, sadly, apologetically, before turning on his heel, and taking off. Running as fast as his feet could carry him, Jesse ran out of the primary school, scrambled into his car, and tore out of little Terrence's life forever.


	18. Ep 18 The Trial Begins

**Ep. 18 The Trial Begins**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… Jesse settles into his role as an unpaid nanny to streetwalker Wendy's son Terrence, in exchange for free boarding. Jesse takes Terrence to enrol at a primary school. Suspecting Terrence is a victim of kidnap and neglect, the school notifies the police. Jesse takes off, once again, a penniless fugitive on the run.

* * *

><p><span><strong>2012<strong>

Skyler stepped into the District Courtroom. It was massive. A huge hall with rows upon rows of dark brown vinyl seats, walls lined with expensive carved redwood, and up front, an imposing Judge dressed in a long black silk cloak, with a mallet in her hand. But most unnerving of all, was the sea of faces staring back at her. She felt an involuntary shiver crawl up her spine.

The entire courtroom was packed. Many were just curious members of the public. This whole _Teacher-Turned-Kingpin _story had truly captured the imagination of Albuquerque. Skyler felt an overwhelming panic rise up from within her. Her breaths were coming up short, winded and punchy. Her young legal aid lawyer, Rex Wong could hear it, Skyler's beginnings of hyperventilation.

"Skyler, slow down, slow down. Deep slow breaths," Rex soothed.

Skyler turned to Rex, "I'm fucked, aren't I?"

Rex pursed his lips, fiddling nervously with the corners of his cheap polyester tie. "Well, look, Skyler. I'm going to do my very best by you, that much I can promise," he said cautiously.

"That's not very reassuring," Skyler muttered, glancing around agitatedly. "They're all staring at me, everyone's staring at me."

"Nobody's staring at you," Rex lied, easing Skyler into a seat in the docks. The entire courtroom filled with the noisy buzz of excitable chatter. Justice Mayfair knocked her mallet against the table.

"Order! Order in the Courtroom!" she announced. The Courtroom fell silent. "Prosecutor Gunn, if you will," Justice Mayfair invited.

"Your Honour, on behalf of the State of New Mexico, I am charging Mrs Skyler White with money laundering and Concealing of Proceeds of Crime, under Section 18.5.2 of the Money Laundering Control Act of 1986; and Section 84.6.9 of the Proceeds of Crime Act 2002."

"Oh God, oh my fucking God," Skyler whispered under her breath.

Rex leaned in to his client. "No, this is good news, Skyler, this is really good news."

Skyler stared at her lawyer incredulously. "How is my being charged with money laundering good news?"

"It means they're not charging you with accessory to the production of an illicit substance," Rex whispered.

"I'm not guilty of that," Skyler gulped.

"Doesn't matter, they wouldn't know that, would they?" Rex countered.

"Opposing Counsel, how does your client wish to plead?" Justice Mayfair enquired.

Rex stood up. "Not Guilty, Your Honour."

The audience erupted into excited chatter and sinister jeering. Justice Mayfair slammed her mallet on the table. "Order in the Courtroom! Order! Now, Mr Wong, do be seated. The Prosecution may now present its case."

Prosecutor Gunn strolled to the front of the Courtroom, turning to face the jury. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, I put forth two propositions to you. The first being that the defendant, Mrs Skyler White was entirely aware that the source of her husband's income derived from money earned through the illegal manufacture of methamphetamines."

"The second, being, that the defendant laundered her husband's money via a carwash business, in conjunction with hiding any excess money she could not launder in an undisclosed area." Prosecutor Gunn continued.

"How do they know I hid Walt's money? Walt moved it; God knows where he buried it! For fuck sakes, even I don't know where it is," Skyler whispered urgently to Rex. Rex sat rigidly in his chair, his lips pursed shut.

"It goes without saying, that the severity of money laundering or hiding illegally obtained money depends on the amount of money laundered or hidden. The defendant's crimes falls on the highest end of the scale of severity, as it is a breathtakingly large amount," Prosecutor Gunn explained.

"What is he talking about? I was very careful about the amount of money I laundered. There's no way the police can calculate how much money I hid in the rented storage unit. Walt moved it, there's no way the police have ever seen it," Skyler whispered deliriously.

"Skyler, you need to stop asking me questions I am ill equipped to answer," Rex hissed.

Prosecutor Gunn smiled widely at the Courtroom, "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, the full amount of illegally obtained money dealt with by the defendant amounts to $80 million."

The Courtroom burst into shocked excited chatter. Rex snapped his head to his client. "Are you serious? $80 million?"

Skyler grew pale, shaking her head vigorously. "I don't know, I can't confirm or deny, I gave up counting the money in the Rented Storage Unit! There was too fucking much to count!"

"Okay, okay, backtrack for a minute. How much money did you launder through the carwash?" Rex demanded.

"$5 million," Skyler said.

"Jesus Christ, you hid $75 million in a Storage Unit? What does $75 million even look like?" the young lawyer whispered, awestruck.

"I didn't know it was that much, I never counted it! I tried, but the money just kept piling in, eventually I couldn't fucking keep up!" Skyler explained.

"If your husband buried the money, the police are supposed to have no idea about its existence, so how in the hell do they know you were hiding 80 million?" Rex demanded.

"I don't know, Rex, you tell me, you're the fucking lawyer, here!" Skyler snapped.

Justice Mayfair smacked her mallet against the table. "Silence, please! All of you!"

The Courtroom fell silent. A satisfied smile crossed the Prosecutor's face. He was very pleased with himself that the dollar figure of Skyler's crimes had whipped the Courtroom into an excited frenzy.

"$80 million in illegal money, ladies and gentlemen, being laundered or hidden by the defendant! We have consulted the FBI, in conjunction with experts in the carwash business, and they have estimated that between $4-5.5 million passed through the defendant's business, A1 Carwash."

"If any of you think this lady to be an unintelligent ignorant housewife, a mere victim of her husband's devious deceptions, I urge you to reconsider your position. The defendant is a very intelligent woman; educated, experienced and astute in accounting."

"She did an excellent job masking the paper trail, because it took the FBI very deep and extensive investigatory work to determine an approximate estimate of how much money she laundered through her carwash. Given her involvement as the book keeper of convicted financially fraudulent felon, Theodore Beneke, this surely comes as little surprise to you all."

"As for the rest of the $80 million that remains unaccounted for, I will be the first to admit, that the FBI, try as they might, cannot trace a cent of that cash. Now, I'm sure you must all be wondering how the Government arrived at this figure. Allow me to enlighten you," Prosecutor Gunn stated.

The Prosecutor lifted his right hand, like a man taking oath, triumphantly holding up a CD, which glittered silver, in the sun filtering through the Courtroom windows.

"Following the disappearance of DEA Agents Henry Schrader and Steven Gomez, suspecting foul play by the defendant's husband, the FBI searched the homes of both men thoroughly, and found this CD. We believe there were many other copies made, but that it has since been destroyed by Walter White's colleagues in crime."

"This CD contains the confession of one Jesse Pinkman, a long-time associate of the defendant's husband. In it, Pinkman tells the entire story of his activities with Walter White, from the moment they first met, to the moment they parted ways. Of particular interest, Pinkman names criminal lawyer Saul Goodman and his employees Huell Babineaux and Patrick Kuby, as the individuals who moved Walter White's money."

"Oh my God, I can't believe it, he's a snitch…" Skyler whispered.

She stared at her lawyer pleadingly. Avoiding eye contact, Rex stared at his hands, waves of heat rushing to his face. He was completely and utterly in over his head. He had no idea how to defend this client.

"I told Walt, the second Pinkman tried to burn our house down, I told him to off that boy. But he wouldn't listen. Jesus Christ, why didn't he listen?" Skyler muttered feverishly.

Rex's eyes widened in horror, "You told him to _what_?"

"Well, look-" Skyler sighed.

Rex held one hand up, shaking his head. "No, don't. I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear you say that. It would appear that the less I know, the better. God, what have I gotten myself into? I knew, from the get go, I should've said no to this," Rex muttered.

The Prosecutor continued his speech. "The FBI tracked this Saul Goodman and his employees down. Now, Saul has exercised his right as an attorney to maintain Walter White's client-attorney privilege, but his associates, Huell Babineaux and Patrick Kuby have no such privilege."

"In exchange for a 5 year cut on their impending prison sentences, Huell Babineaux and Patrick Kuby have agreed to appear as witnesses to state for the record, that they were contracted by the defendant to transport and hide $75 million in cash."

Skyler turned to her lawyer, "It's like I said, Rex. I am truly and utterly fucked."


	19. Ep 19 Sister Someone

**Ep. 19 Sister Someone**

Previously, on AMC's Breaking Bad… Skyler is formally charged with the indictable offence of money laundering, to the tune of $80 million. The FBI discovers this after finding Jesse's confession CD in Hank's house, leading them to Huell Babineaux and Patrick Kuby. Both men agree to testify in exchange for a lighter sentence.

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><p><span><strong>2012<strong>

Prosecutor Gunn turned to the Judge. "If it pleases the Court, Your Honour, I would like to call Huell Babineaux to the Stand."

"You may," Justice Mayfair replied. Huell Babineaux, all 200 pounds of him, came waddling to the witness stand, plonking his obese self, heavily onto the witness seat.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" the Court Officer asked.

"I do," Huell said.

"Alright, let's get started, Mr. Babineaux. Have you met the defendant?" Prosecutor Gunn asked.

"Yes, Sir."

"Who is the defendant in relation to you?"

"She is Attorney Saul Goodman's client."

"On the 24th of October this year, Saul Goodman instructed you to run an errand for the defendant, didn't he?"

"Yes he did, Sir."

"Tell us about what this errand entailed."

"Mrs White was keeping Walter's money in a Storage Unit, but the Feds were coming, so Saul told us to fetch the money, and load it into a van, to drive somewhere to bury it."

"I see. And do you know how much money the defendant kept in the Storage Unit?"

"Saul said it's $75 million, Sir. And well yeah, judging by the size and weight of it, I believe it."

"$75 million, ladies and gentlemen. The defendant, Skyler White, had, through her lawyer Saul Goodman, contracted this man to transport $75 million in cash, which she had been hiding in a Storage Facility. So, Mr Babineaux did you and Mr Kuby carry out the errand Mr Goodman sent you on?"

"Yes, Sir. We went to the Storage Unit, and shoved all the money into huge plastic barrels. Then we moved the barrels into a van, and drove it to see Mr White. Mr White got in the van, and drove off with the money. I don't know what happened to it afterwards, he must've buried it somewhere in the desert."

"Now, just to be clear for the Jury, here. Are you testifying, under oath, before a Court of law, that you, Mr Babineaux, put your hands on $75 million cash, which had been hidden by the defendant, Mrs Skyler White?"

"Yes I am, Sir."

Prosecutor Gunn flashed a smile, nodding approvingly. "Thank you, Mr Babineaux, you may be seated." He turned to the Jury with a flourish. "Now, because two testimonies are always more convincing than one, if it pleases the Court, I would like to call Huell Babineaux's associate, Patrick Kuby to the stand to confirm the accuracy of Mr Babineaux's testimony."

"Go ahead," Justice Mayfair responded.

The skinny bearded redhead walked, head down, gingerly taking a seat in the witness stand. The Prosecutor went ahead and asked Patrick the same questions, under oath, and lo and behold, their testimonies matched up. Skyler was certainly, to put it mildly, in deep trouble.

Prosecutor Gunn smiled at the Jury. "There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. A testimony under oath by two associates of Walter White's that they collected $75 million in cash, which the defendant, Mrs Skyler White, hid in a Storage Facility."

"Whether this, to you, suffices as evidence beyond a reasonable doubt, of Mrs White's guilt regarding the hiding of $75 million, is up to you to decide, but I would implore you to employ some common sense when arriving to that decision."

"As for her business, the A1 Carwash, that is a separate charge. A charge of money laundering. Was the defendant guilty of that also, to the tune of $5 million? We have a witness who will testify to the truth of that charge," the Prosecutor stated.

Skyler glanced around the Courtroom frightened and confused. There were only three people on the face of this planet who knew about her money laundering. Her husband, her lawyer and her sister.

The first was MIA, the second had exercised his legal right to avoid testifying on grounds of lawyer-client confidentiality. The third… Oh it could only be the third… But by God, Skyler didn't want to believe it. Skyler refused to believe it. Not her beloved little sister, please let it be anyone but her.

Prosecutor Gunn nodded at the Judge. "If it pleases the Court, I would like to call Mrs Marie Schrader to witness stand."

"Go ahead," Justice Mayfair answered.

Skyler felt her heart drop to the floor. She felt faint and dizzy with disbelief. Bright white flecks of light began dancing before Skyler's eyes. It was as if she were standing on her doorstep at home, with a crowd of reporters closing in on her, snapping their camera flashlights in her face.

"Water, I need water, please…" Skyler croaked desperately.

Skyler's legal aid lawyer Rex raised his hand, "Your Honour, if we could get some water for Mrs White, please."

Justice Mayfair nodded at a security guard, who promptly poured Skyler a glass. Skyler sipped the water gingerly, massaging her forehead, and shutting her eyes to the horror before her. Her own sister, her beloved baby sister Marie was testifying against her.

As Marie sat in the witness stand, one person sitting before a crowd of hundreds, she felt suddenly, so very alone. She wrapped her fist around a purple Amethyst stone, imagining Hank were right beside her, a large firm supporting hand resting on her shoulder.

Was she doing the right thing? In principle, yes. Skyler had refused to disclose Walt's criminal activities even after Hank nearly died from multiple gunshot wounds at the hands of Walt's henchmen. Instead she had covered the secret in a layer of lies. In so doing, Skyler had shown a blatant disregard for Hank's life!

Furthermore, the nerve on Skyler to sit there in the Mexican restaurant, stiff-lipped, silent and haughty, implicitly supporting Walt as he spouted his bullshit rationalisations and excuses. The nerve on her to let Walt stick Hank with a blackmail CD shredding Hank's credibility with hateful lies.

No, Marie knew she was doing right by Hank, testifying against Skyler. After all, in Marie's heart she knew. She knew it from the moment Walt had said those words… _'You're never going to see Hank again!' _She knew he was already gone. All that was left to be done, was to find his body, nay, his corpse. It was the elephant in the room that everyone was too stupid, too kindly, or too deluded to acknowledge.

But if Marie was merely seeking justice for her dead husband, why did it all feel so wrong? Why did she feel sharp lashings of guilt whip her heart, as she watched her sister in the docks, so pale, so desperate, so frightened, melting under the white hot judgment of a roomful of strangers? Why did she feel like the thirteenth disciple at the table? Like Judas?

The Prosecutor clicked his fingers in Marie's face. "Mrs Schrader, are you there? Can you hear me?"

Marie stared at the Prosecutor, a distant, vacant look in her eyes. "Ma'am, are you quite alright?"

Marie nodded stiffly, "Yes, yes I'm fine, let's continue."

It was too late to back out now. Marie had, months ago, filed a police report against her sister, and that single report had quickly snowballed into an official witness statement, which had then snowballed into having her here, today, in the witness box, testifying against her sister.

"Ma'am, if you could raise your right arm and repeat after me. I swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God," the Court Officer stated. Marie repeated the words shakily.

"Now, Mrs Schrader, if you could please state for the Court, your full name and your relation to the defendant."

Marie cleared her throat nervously. "My name is Marie Schrader, and I am the sister of the defendant."

"Do you love your sister, Marie?" Prosecutor Gunn asked gently.

Marie nodded, "Yes, more than she could ever know."

Skyler looked down at the floor, tears filling her eyes. She wiped them away quickly, with the sleeve of her shirt. It meant everything to her, to hear her sister still loved her. Did it sadden her that Marie was hanging her out to dry? Yes. Did she blame Marie for doing so? No. She would have done the same.

"You say you love your sister, and yet you're here today to testify against her?"

"Yes, I am."

"This must be hard for you."

"It is," Marie choked out. "It really fucking is."

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><p><strong>AN: If you want another chapter, please review! :D **


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